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Father Milter 


The Consultation. 

“ Listen, and I will tell you ! ” 


Page 68 




THE GOOD LORD STILL REIGNS! 




TORY 


Father Miller. 


Written for his Young’ Friends 
BY 


If 


Translated by LEWIS HENRY STEINER. 


PHILADELPHIA : 

REFORMED CHURCH PUBLICATION BOARD,, 

54 NORTH SIXTn STREET. 

x> 



BOOK 

LISHED BY THE 


offund of the Strinttji Juttutag-School 


OP THE 


Reformed J^huf^ch, yoi\K, 


tivn 

st 

Ccf' j 


Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 18C9, by 
S. R. FISHER & CO., 

In tho Clerk’s Offico of the District Court, for tho Eastern District of 
Pennsylvania. 


JAS. B. RODQEUS CO., 
ELECJTROTYPERS AND PRINTERS, 
52 & 54 N. Sixth St. 





j2oNTENTS. 


CHAPTER I. 

FATHER MILLER AND HIS WIFE 5 

CHAPTER II. 

IF SINNERS ENTICE THEE, CONSENT TnOU NOT. 26 

CHAPTER III. 


A HEAVY BLOW 44 

CHAPTER IY. 

WILLIAM AND ANNA 62 

CHAPTER V. 


HAPPY IS THE MAN WHO LIVES TO SEE JOY 


IN HIS CHILDREN 80 

CHAPTER VI. 

THE GRANDFATHER’S PORTRAIT 96 


iii 


iv 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE ROBBERY 116 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE IMPRISONMENT 132 

CHAPTER IX. 


THE LORD WILL BRING WICKEDNESS TO LIGHT. 150 

CHAPTER X. 

THE SECRETARY OF THE PRIVY COUNCIL 163 



HE pTORY 


OF 

Father Miller. 


CHAPTER I. 

FATHER MILLER AND HIS WIFE. 

NE warm Spring-morning, just as 
the clock struck twelve, Father 
Miller came home, in accordance 
with his usual habit, placed his bamboo 
cane with the ivory head in its accus- 
tomed corner, laid his hat on the little 
table near it, and quietly wiped the per- 
spiration from his brow. Then he joined 
his hands behind his back and, as washis 

5 



6 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


custom, walked a little while in silence 
up and down liis room. Mother Miller, 
who was sitting by the window, cast an 
anxious, sympathetic glance at the father, 
shook her head, was about speaking, but 
bethought herself of something else, and 
continued knitting industriously at the 
stocking, which was visibly growing long- 
er under her nimble fingers. 

“ Mother,” said Father Miller, suddenly, 
in a depressed tone, “ this cannot go on 
longer ! We must really retrench our ex- 
penses still more ! Only think, just now, 
as I passed through the market, the Crier 
was ringing his bell and giving public no- 
tice, that the precious gift of God — our 
daily bread — had been raised six pennies 
in price, by order of our very sage magis- 
trates. If it goes on this way, we shall 
soon not have money enough to keep our- 
selves supplied with the staff of life.” 

The father had talked himself into a 
bad humor, and his eyes fairly flashed, 
as he now stood in front of his wife, and 
continued speaking : “And whence comes 


FATHER MILLER AND JHIS WIFE. 


7 


this ? Simply because these rascally 
grain-dealers have not had their opera- 
tions checked. I wish I were king for 
only one day — only one single day ! 
How astonished they would be !” 

“ But, husband, dear,” replied the moth- 
er, with soft voice and a pleasant smile 
upon her lips, “ indeed, you are going too 
far. Don’t worry yourself with foolish 
fears ! Your table thus far has always 
been provided, and we have all had 
enough ; indeed, we have even expe- 
rienced worse times than these. Only 
think now, how things looked after the 
war, when a bushel of rye cost five dol- 
lars. Did we ever then even once go to 
bed hungry? Has not the good Lord, for 
Christ’s sake, everywhere and at all 
times, helped us in our necessities? Have 
we not always had a roof over our heads, 
and clothing to cover our nakedness ? My 
dear, good husband, why should you be 
discouraged, if provisions are a little high- 
er in price ? The good Lord still reigns, 
and we are stilL His children in Christ, as 


8 


STORY 6f FATHER MILLER. 


we were years ago. Lift up your head, 
my dear, and look about in joy. He, 
who feeds the young ravens and clothes 
the lilies of the field, as the Saviour as- 
sures us, will then not desert us, who 
look up to Him with joyous and trusting 
hearts.” 

Father Miller was somewhat quieted 
by these words of his sensible, good wife ; 
but the dark clouds, which shaded his 
brow and made his heart unusually 
heavy, were still not entirely driven 
away. 

“ But see, mother,” said lie, “you speak 
just as you understand it! Yes! if it 
were nothing more than a little eating 
and drinking, shelter and clothing, I 
would have to yield the point to you. 
But what will become of the children ? 
William is now seventeen years old. The 
youth is so industrious and clever, that 
he gives me a great deal of pleasure. 
Even yesterday, the School Director said 
many good and pleasant things about him, 
and advised me again to allow him to 


FATHER MILLER AND HIS WIFE. 


9 


continue his studies. Yes, but with what ? 
Our small income is scarcely sufficient for 
our daily necessities. How would it be, 
then, if we should be obliged to support 
the youth at the expensive University? 
And then our Anna and Albert ! It is 
true, that the girl will soon be out of 
school, and will cost us no more there. 
But the little boy must also learn some- 
thing ! How then ? One in the Univer- 
sity, the second at school, and our income 
no larger, while the little necessaries of 
life are ever growing dearer. Mother, if 
all this is not enough to make one’s head 
dizzy and set it aching, then I know no- 
thing about it !” 

The wife also began to reflect, and the 
bright, pleasant smile gradually disap- 
peared from her lips, while Father Miller 
poured into her heart all the cares that 
oppressed him. Nevertheless, she looked 
into the darkened eyes of her spouse 
with firm confidence and, pressing his 
hand, encouraged him. 

“The good Lord still reigns, father,” 


10 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


said she softly. “Only don’t forget that, 
husband dear ! See now, if it is right 
and proper for William that he should 
study, the means for it will be found. 
If not— then we must console ourselves 
in this, that God’s will has determined it 
otherwise, and rest content in this 
thought. You are no scholar, husband, 
and yet it has gone so well with you 
all your life, that we cannot be sufficient- 
ly thankful. Why despond now, when 
we have received so many proofs of God’s 
fatherly love ? No, no ! husband ! You 
must not complain and grieve, but rather 
assist me to reflect, whether there may 
not still some means be found, in spite of 
all obstacles, so that we can yet attain 
the end of our wishes.” 

“Mother, I see no possibility!” said 
Father Miller. “No possibility — none at 
all ! Only think of it, what expenses are 
hanging over us. There is first, the in- 
terest on the cost of our house, which we 
must pay on St. John’s day. That makes 
ten dollars. Then William must have a 


FATHER MILLER AND HIS WIFE. II 

new coat; for recollect, lie goes around 
still in this warm weather in my old pilot 
cloth coat, whose stitches will no longer 
hold together, and then he perspires in it 
to such a degree, that he will soon evap- 
orate into pure steam or melt into water. 
Now, even if I give him my light-green 
summer coat, and content myself with the 
linen one, it will cost five dollars, because 
it must have a new lining, and the tailor 
must live, and will not work for us for 
nothing : and so, ten and five make fif- 
teen dollars. Next, Anna and Albert 
must have new shoes, which will also 
cost money. My shoes must be soled- 
for I have been obliged to fasten the 
soles, which flapped quite miserably, with 
a piece of twine to the uppers. Then, 
wife, you may say what you will, but you 
can’t go any longer with credit- into the 
streets with your dress. A new dress 
must be had, and that will cost three 
dollars, even if we select very plain cali- 
co and you play the mantua-maker. We 
must also eat and drink, must pay tui- 


12 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


tion-money; in short, when I take all 
these things together, there only remains 
of my whole quarter’s salary probably 
thirty dollars, — and with that, how can 
we let the youth pursue his studies ? It 
would not answer. It wouldn’t answer, 
even if he were to live on nothing but 
dry bread.” 

With long strides the father again 
measured the room, and the mother re- 
mained silent, not thinking of any conso- 
latory answer. In fact she was obliged 
to acknowledge the truth of everything 
her husband had said, and a mouse 
couldn’t gnaw a bit off from the expenses 
as he had stated them. 

“Yes, husband,” she began, with trem- 
bling, “that w r ould indeed leave us no- 
thing else but the necessity of retrench- 
ing a little more, as you remarked just 
now. Let us see ! I have always, up to 
this time, used three dollars a week for 
household expenses. If I were to cook a 
little more sparingly, I could make two 
and a half answer, and that would save 


FATHER MILLER AND HIS WIFE. 1 3 

nearly seven in a quarter. Now see, this 
will be as good as though we had made 
it, and it will come in place nicely for 
William, should he go to the University. 
Besides, husband dear, you have now 
served Ilerr Hartmann faithfully for 
eighteen years and more. Can he not be 
induced to increase your salary ?” 

“That he wont do,” replied Father Mil- 
ler, shaking his head. “I know him too 
well for that. Although I speak but the 
truth — that I do him more service than 
an ordinary copyist, — indeed, that I do 
more than he himself does, still — no, 
mother, we dare not expect it ; banish the 
thought from your mind. I will give 
up smoking, and my cup of coffee after 
dinner, which is only a luxury, and in- 
stead of drinking a glass of beer in the 
evening, will content myself with a glass 
of water, which will quench my thirst 
better. Then we can also save oil in the 
lamp of an evening, especially in sum- 
mer, when the days are long; and if we 
find it tiresome, we can chat together, and 


14 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

that will make the time pass. Then — 
yes, that’s it — I can rise an hour earlier 
in the morning than was our custom. 
The morning hour has gold in its mouth. 
If there should be no gold, at least there 
will be silver. If I employ my time dili- 
gently, I can earn two silver-groschen 
more by copying every day. That will be 
twelve grosclien a week (not counting 
Sunday) and the grand total for the year 
will be six hundred and twenty-four sil- 
ver-groschen, or twenty dollars and twen- 
ty-four silver-groschen. Your twenty- 
eight dollars added to it will make alrea- 
dy forty-eight. Dropping coffee, tobacco 
and beer, we can add twenty more, and 
we will have saved sixty-eight dollars. 
Mother, positively it will answer the pur- 
pose !” 

“ Indeed it will, husband dear,” cried 
the wife, much rejoiced^ as the eyes of 
her husband began to look more happy. 
“But, my dear, you must not be de- 
prived of your cup of coffee. Every 
laborer is worthy of his hire, and one as 


FATHER MILLER AND HIS WIFE. 


*5 


diligent as you should have double hire ! 
No, no — whence indeed could you get 
strength and courage to perform your ar- 
duous duties, if you allowed yourself no 
recreation — no refreshment ? You mustn’t 
think of that, my dear.” 

The wife arose, wound her arms around 
the shoulders of her husband, who offered 
but feeble resistance, and gazed so bright- 
ly and pleasantly into his eyes, that Father 
Miller scarcely had courage to resist her 
persuasions. He still refused, although 
it was done quietly. Then the children 
entered the room and, as the time for 
dinner had arrived, the conversation was 
broken off. The mother hurried out to 
the kitchen to dish up the dinner. Anna 
followed to assist her as much as possible, 
and, in a few minutes, a very savory po- 
tato-soup was on the table. As on every 
day, so on this one, the short, simple 
grace was said, and then all ate the meal 
with as hearty a relish as though they 
had been guests at the king’s table. 

The father was enjoying the last spoon- 


1 6 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

ful of his simple meal, when the front 
door creaked, and soon after there was a 
knock at the room door. “See who is 
without,” said the father to Anna, and 
the girl sprang ’quickly forward to open 
the door. It had already, however, been 
opened, and the servant of the Privy- 
Counsellor Werthlos entered the room. 
Father Miller knew him, because he had 
often transacted business with that officer, 
and he was only surprised that the ser- 
vant had sought him at his house, and 
not, as was the custom, at the office of 
Hartmann, the Advocate and Notary. 

“Well now, what do you bring me, 
Dietrich ?” he asked the servant, rising 
from the table and going towards him. 
“ The business must be urgent, since you 
come here.” 

“I have only to present the respectful 
compliments of the Privy-Counsellor, and 
to give you this note,” replied the ser- 
vant. “ He told me that I need not wait 
for an answer.” Saying this, he handed 
Father Miller a neatly folded note, made 


FATHER MILLER AND HIS WIFE. 1 7 

a slight bow, and left as quickly as he 
had come. 

“What can the Privy-Counsellor want 
of me ?” said Father Miller, more to him- 
self than to the others, meditating as he 
weighed the letter in his hands. “ Hem !” 

The letter was not immediately opened, 
but he seated himself again at the table, 
and waited patiently until the children 
were all satisfied, and the mother had re- 
turned thanks when the meal was fin- 
ished. Then William seized his books, 
Anna cleared off the table, Albert ran 
into the street to play with his young 
companions, and the mother, after she 
had filled the father’s pipe, went into the 
kitchen, prepared a cup of coffee as 
usual for her husband, and then carried 
the coffee into the chamber where he 
had gone, as was his custom, to enjoy an 
hour of rest, and to chat with his wife 
about anything that had occurred during 
the day. When the mother entered the 
room, she saw the father sitting in the 
arm-chair, while on a little table near 
2 


1 8 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

him was the letter, which had just arrived, 
with its seal broken. 

“Now, husband, dear, what’s the 
news?” asked the mother, extending to 
her husband the pipe with tobacco, and 
a lighter. Father Miller, still absorbed 
in thought, took the pipe, ignited it, 
without thinking of his resolution, and 
took a few vigorous puffs. Suddenly it 
occurred to him, that he had intended 
not to smoke any more ; when, dissatisfied 
with himself, he pushed the pipe aside, 
and pushed the cup of coffee with his 
hand far away from him. 

“Mother,” he said, reproachfully, “I 
told you that” — 

“Why, you have told me nothing,” 
said Mother Miller, interrupting him, 
and putting the cup with gentle force 
again to his lips. “ There, sip and drink 
to your pleasure and satisfaction, or I 
shall go directly out .and won’t speak a 
word with you until you are done. 
If you won’t do it for your own sake, do 
it for mine ; for it seems always as if 


FATHER MILLER AND HIS WIFE. 19 

there was something wanting, when I 
don’t see you enjoy this, after dinner.” 
“But ” — 

“No more huts !” said the mother, with 
emphasis. 

“You good wife!” said Father Miller, 
half smiling, half excited, holding the 
mother fast, as she pretended she was 
about putting her threat into execution. 
“I must then do as you wish, 'because I 
must speak to you of something very im- 
portant. Stay, and sit down here ! and 
now — read this letter !” 

The mother read it, and the fath- 
er, while contentedly sipping his coffee, 
watched his wife’s face, the features of 
which grew more pleasant and fuller of 
smiles as she read on. 

“0, husband, dear,” said she at last 
with joyous countenance. “This is in* 
deed very charming news ! Here we are 
now freed from all want ( Do you think 
that the Privy-Counsellor is really in 
earnest, when he offers you six hundred 
dollars salary as a Secretary of the Ex- 


20 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


chequer ? If, husband, that be true, 
which is here written in black and white, 
the good Lord couldn’t send us more 
pleasant news. And this comes just 
when we were anticipating want and sor- 
row. For Heaven’s sake, my good hus- 
band, why don’t you rejoice?” 

The mother’s question was a proper 
one ; for Father Miller looked very grave, 
and thoughtfully shaking his head from 
side to side. 

“Now see,” he said; “the place in the 
Exchequer would indeed be quite grand. 
But there’s exactly the difficulty in the 
case. Because it would be so great a 
blessing for me and all of us, I can’t yet 
believe it with my whole heart. Either 
the Privy-Counsellor has not the power 
to procure for me the place, or — and that 
seems to me most likely — he wouldn’t 
procure it without making me com- 
pensate him suitably for it. I don’t 
mean in money, because he knows, just 
as well as we, how small our resources 
are. No, he will require perhaps some- 


FATHER MILLER AND HIS WIFE. 


21 


thing of me, that I cannot conscientious- 
ly do, and then the whole business, which 
pleases you so much, will come to nothing. 
Am I not right, little wife, in thinking 
we are of one mind, never, for mere 
worldly treasures, to deviate one hair’s 
breadth from the path of uprightness ?” 

“Yes, most certainly, that is a matter 
of course, husband, dear,” replied the 
mother. “But see, here is your usual 
style and manner again ! Instead of re- 
joicing and thanking the good Lord for 
all the blessings and loving-kindnesses 
he showers down upon us, you indulge in 
strange doubts about things that in fact 
only exist in your imagination, and in 
this way destroy all the happiness of 
life. Now, husband, dear, if you would 
take my advice, you would put on your 
holiday coat, and go straightway to the 
Privy-Counsellor, to thank him properly 
for the good will, which he so plainly 
shows toward you in this matter. Do it, 
husband ! That is the most sensible 


22 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


“As you look upon the matter, so must 
it indeed be,” replied Father Miller, cau- 
tiously, but not rising from liis chair. 
“But — but I have known the Privy- 
Counsellor for a long time, and I tell 
you ; he does nothing gratuitously. Let 
one only confide in such a great man 
once ! Yes, indeed, if he hadn’t expect- 
ed something from the old copyist, he 
might drudge still longer with Hart- 
mann, the Advocate, and write his fin- 
gers stiff. There is some kink in the 
business, wife, some kink, I tell you, and 
that a very large and crooked one !” 

“Oh, husband, dear, what kind of a 
kink can there be ? Herr Hartmann has 
accidentally spoken of you at some time, 
and given you the praise to which you 
are entitled. The Privy-Counsellor has 
heard it, and inquired about you, and has 
ascertained nothing but what is good 
and loveable. The place of Secretary 
was vacant. He thought of you ; knew 
that he could trust you. What wonder 
is it, that he seeks to offer you the place ? 


FATHER MILLER AND HIS WIFE. 


2 3 


Indeed, the tiling is quite simple, hus- 
band, dear!” 

Father Miller still shook his head. 
Mother Miller’s words seemed to fall 
upon very stony and unfruitful soil. 

“That is nothing, all nothing!” he 
said. “He would have looked after very 
different people from me ! I know that 
well. That a great man would trouble 
himself about a poor copyist of an Advo- 
cate ! All smoke, pure smoke ! Never- 
theless, you are still right, mother ! I 
must go to him, return suitable thanks, 
and then await, trusting in God, what- 
ever happens. But do not rejoice too 
much, dear wife ! Think with me : The 
thing has a kink in it, and that a large 
one.” 

Father Miller rose, put on his holiday 
coat, which the mother had quickly 
brought out for him, knocked the dust off 
his shoes, looked after the strings that held 
the soles and the uppers together, and 
betook himself to the Privy-Counsellor’s. 
With an anxious heart the mother await- 


24 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER 


ed his return. When he arrived, she 
saw his face was somewhat brighter ; 
still he said nothing more than : “ I must 
make application to the Exchequer, and 
ask for the vacant position. The Privy- 
Counsellor has promised to do his best 
for me. We will see ! I shall not let 
the opportunity pass by ; but, mother, do 
not rejoice too soon, only think of the 
kink.” 

“ And did the Privy-Counsellor say 
nothing about the kink ?” asked Mother 
Miller. 

“Not a word, indeed,” said the father. 
“But men don’t always blurt out their 
thoughts, especially such skilful rogues. 
Now, now! only be quiet, mother! I 
know all you would say. But we shall 
see !” 

The father took his holiday coat off, 
hung it in the cupboard, put on his old Ja- 
cob, as he called his working coat, and be- 
took himself, as on other week days, to the 
office of Herr Hartmann, the Advocate 
and Notary. The mother smiled, as she 


FATHER MILLER AND HIS WIFE. 


25 


looked after him, and, when he had 
turned the corner, said half aloud and 
half to herself: “The brave, good and 
yet incredulous old grumbler ! When 
happiness even once smiles on him, he 
has no pleasure in it, because he will al- 
ways find scruples and doubts. This 
time faith shall be planted in him !” 




CHAPTER II. 

If sinners entice thee, consent thou not. 

HE mother gave her husband no 
peace until she had seen the ap- 
plication to the Exchequer, de- 
sired by the Privy-Counsellor, written, 
sealed and directed. Father Miller hesi- 
tated and delayed, put the business off 
from day to day, and alleged sometimes 
this and sometimes that reason, as an ex- 
cuse for his tardiness. At last, however, 
the perseverance of the mother was vic- 
torious, and she seized the father’s letter 
with joy in order to send it by William. 

“Do you hear,” said she to her son, 
“give the letter to no one but the Privy- 
Counsellor Werthlos himself. Much de- 
pends on his being favorably disposed ; the 
26 



IF SINNERS ENTICE THEE, CONSENT THOU NOT. 27 

gratification of your own wishes and the 
happiness of your parents !” 

William promised to follow the orders 
of his mother to the letter, and hurried 
away. But the mother then said : “ Gott- 
lob ! Now, as we have done all that can 
be done, I am satisfied.” 

“I wish I were so !” said Father Mil- 
ler. “But I know not why it is, I have 
no real pleasure in the whole business. It 
always seems to me, that, instead of the 
happiness which you are hoping and ex- 
pecting, nothing but mischief will come 
out of it. I must, however, speak once 
with Herr Hartmann about it.” 

“No, husband, don’t tell him, I beg 
you!” the mother said quickly. “Why 
should you ? Herr Hartmann will only 
be vexed about it, because it is natural 
that he should fear to lose so industrious 
a worker as you are, and then you would 
have nothing to expect but trouble and 
vexation up to the time of leaving his of- 
fice. Why then talk about it before the 
time ? See, husband, dear, you are al- 


28 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


ways saying that we women can never 
keep anything secret, and now you are 
the One who cannot keep silence. Talk- 
ing is very well, but the old proverb runs: 
“ Silence is better than silver and Gold.” 

“Each in its own time, mother!” re- 
plied Father Miller. “Herr Hartmann 
must know this at some time, and, there- 
fore, I think it better I should tell him 
myself the whole story, than wait for 
somebody else to do it.” 

“Undoubtedly you must tell it,” an- 
swered the mother, “ but not before the 
proper time arrives. You are not bound 
by oath to communicate everything to him 
that concerns yourself alone.” 

Father Miller was obliged to admit 
this, and at length consented. He kept 
silent about the whole affair, and per- 
formed his duties honestly and indefati- 
gably as before. Thus a few weeks passed 
away, and there was scarcely any refer- 
ence made to the subject, because the 
mother saw, that, whenever she began to 
speak of it, the father was put out of hu- 


IF SINNERS ENTICE THEE CONSENT THOU NOT. 2 () 

mor, and for hours was pensive, and im- 
mersed in brown study. She scarcely 
doubted any more, that her wish would 
be accomplished, because she thought, 
and justly, that a brave, upright and in- 
dustrious man, like Father Miller, well 
deserved the good fortune then in pros- 
pect. Her eyes often rested with joy up- 
on her children, especially upon William, 
who had passed a brilliant examination 
and had secured a unanimous certificate 
from his teachers of his fitness for en- 
trance into the University. Every thing 
indeed had been prepared for his depar- 
ture, and the mother waited only for the 
receipt of the salary, which was almost 
theirs, in order to send him with her bles- 
sing from the parental roof. 

It happened, one day, that Father Mil- 
ler came home with a fiery red face, eyes 
sparkling with rage and quaking lips, 
spoke curtly to the mother, and then went 
into the chamber, closing the door after 
him. The mother became uneasy. For 
she saw clearly, that something must have 


3 ° 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


happened to provoke* her usually quiet 
and self-possessed husband to such a de- 
gree. Timidly she knocked at the cham- 
ber door and begged admission; but no 
answer came from the father, and then 
she saw that she must wait quietly, un- 
til he would call her himself. For it was 
the habit of Father Miller, first to get 
himself somewhat composed before he 
would speak of things, that might have 
an unpleasant effect on those about him, 
and especially on his wife 

With anxious heart the mother seated 
herself by the window, and carefully pon- 
dered in her mind what could be the 
cause of the father’s excitement. Then 
she heard him walking up and down, at 
first with quick, heavv steps, which after- 
wards became slower and softer. From 
this fact she concluded that he had be- 
come composed, or had conquered the ill 
humor that had so stirred him up. It 
wasn’t long before Father Miller opened 
the door, and beckoned to his wife to en- 
ter the chamber. 


IF SINNERS ENTICE THEE, CONSENT THOU NOT. 3 I 

“Now, my dear,” said he, whilst with 
a smile he tried to dissipate the anxious 
care, which was clearly enough expressed 
in her eyes, — “now, my dear, here we 
have it. The Privy Counsellor Werthlos 
is a bad man, and the proposed nomina- 
tion as Secretary of the Exchequer was 
nothing more than a bait to blind me and 
enlist me as his accomplice. But the 
miserable fellow reckoned without his 
host. No, although 1 am only a poor 
copyist, still I hold my honor as dear as 
any Counsellor or minister, and the hour 
is yet to come which will see me deviate 
from the path of rectitude, even though I 
should, as a consequence, be plunged into 
misery and ruin.” 

“ But what has happened ?” asked the 
mother again, quite agitated. 

“Sit down here and listen to me atten- 
tively; I will tell you the whole,” said 
Father Miller. “You shall also read the 
letter, which the tempter has written me, 
and then you will acknowledge that the 
whole affair of the Secretaryship of the 


32 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


Exchequer is only a trap. As I was sit- 
ting quietly, yesterday, at my papers, 
Dietrich, the servant of the Privy-Coun- 
sellor, who was here a short time since, 
called to deliver a message from his mas- 
ter to Herr Hartmann, and handed me a 
letter so secretly, that no one noticed it. 
Old fool that I was : If I had only cast it 
at his feet: still I thought it were better 
first to see what it was, and the letter 
was put into my pocket. At noon, when 
I was coming home, I came around by 
the w^all, read the letter, and immediate- 
ly felt the blood of resentment and anger 
rising to my head. Now hear, how the 
matter stands. Herr Hartmann has to 
conduct a suit against the brother in law of 
the Privy-Counsellor, Herr von Schwert- 
berg. It is about a property worth Fif- 
ty-thousand dollars, between brothers, and 
which the Herr von SchwertbeTg will 
not give up, although the property is just 
as little his as it is yours or mine. The 
papers relating to the whole case were 
delivered to me by Herr Hartmann some 


IF SINNERS ENTICE THEE, CONSENT THOU NOT. 33 

weeks since, and the Privy-Counsellor, 
who has to defend his brother-in-law, 
heard this from Herr Hartmann’s own 
lips. Now, you must know, that I sus- 
pected, from the very first, this business 
of the vacant Secretaryship of the Ex- 
chequer, and hence I warned you, that 
it was not so certain and sure as to be 
counted upon. But I could not say any- 
thing; and why ? First for fear I might 
myself be mistaken, and might inflict on 
the Privy-Counsellor a flagrant wrong, 
by the suspicion that he was false ; and 
next, because, as you are well aware, I 
do not readily speak, without occasion, 
of things which concern no one but Herr 
Hartmann and myself. Well, I also 
thought, when the time comes, proper 
counsel will come ! You can always do 
as you please. You are still your own 
master. If the place is offered you, you 
would be a fool to reject it. If a man 
tries to buy your conscience, you can say 
good-by to him. I would rather remain 
a poor copyist on dry bread, than become 
3 


34 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


a well-paid Secretary with sin and dis- 
grace. Well ! Herr Hartmann gave me, 
among other papers, a document also, 
which plainly and clearly adjudges the 
property in question to the young Coun- 
tess Kronberg — you know her, the poor 
orphan, whose mother died a year ago. 
Her guardian had entrusted the business 
to Herr Hartmann, and hence the whole 
story fell into my hands. If the oppo- 
sition could have this document de- 
stroyed, then the claims of the Countess 
Kronberg would be without support, and 
there would be no use in having a trial. 
Now what does the cunning Privy-Coun- 
sellor do? He sends me this trash, in 
which he whisks about like a cat around 
a dish of hot soup, endeavoring to make 
me believe, with smooth words, that the 
document in question is spurious, and 
closing by asking me to send it to him, 
so that a most flagrant piece of injustice 
might not be done his brother-in-law. 
Yes, your most obedient servant: I shall 
now go back to Herr Hartmann, will 


IF SINNERS ENTICE THEE, CONSENT THOU NOT. 35 

make a clean breast to liim, show him 
the letter of the Privy-Counsellor, and 
tell him honestly and candidly what has 
transpired between the tempter and my- 
self. That, in my opinion, is the most 
j udicious thing, and I should have done 
it at first, had I not counselled the mat- 
ter with you before.’' 

Father Miller was silent, and his wife 
shook her head. “Now mind, husband 
dear,” she said, “if this doesn’t turn out 
to be a test, by which the Privy-Coun- 
sellor proposes to try your honesty. I 
can’t imagine that so prominent a man 
could really be so wicked as to tempt 
you to commit a theft.” 

“So you think;” replied Father Miller, 
ironically. “ May Heaven ever preserve 
you in that childlike disposition, which 
always will believe the best of other peo- 
ple; notwithstanding this — I can make 
an experiment. I can write him, that 
I will allow the document to pass from 
my hands, if instead of the secretary’s 
place a situation in the Council should 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


3 6 

be offered me. Yes, yes, then we will 
see indeed liow the Privy-Counsellor will 
behave himself. Will you lay a wager, 
wife, that I shan’t have the letter of ap- 
pointment, to-morrow, in my hands ? ” 

“Yes, husband dear, that I will!” re- 
joined the wife. “That I will unhesi- 
tatingly; for I well know, that the Privy- 
Counsellor will send you home with a 
long face, but will not make a Counsellor 
of you. Only try it! ” 

“It shall be done! It shall be done, 
and on the spot,” said the father : “ Bring 
me writing materials and paper quickly. 
I know my man, and I risk nothing in 
this. I wouldn’t put my honor so thought- 
lessly in the hands of an honest man, but 
a rascal can only be caught in his own 
trap. Quick, bring me pen and ink.” 
Mother Miller brought the articles de- 
sired, and Father Miller wrote the follow- 
ing letter : 

u To the right Honorable Privy Counsellor. 

“ Although I know as well as you, that 
the document in question is perfectly 


IF SINNERS ENTICE THEE, CONSENT THOU NOT. 3 J 

valid in law, yet I am inclined to ensure 
its loss, if I could assure myself, that a 
service would thereby be rendered you — 
my much respected patron. But, as in 
order to oblige you, I shall certainly lose 
my place with Herr Hartmann, I must 
state conditions, so that I may secure 
suitable employment elsewhere. The 
place of the deceased Counsellor Erich on 
your Council Board is not yet filled, and 
I leave it to your decision, whether you 
would consider me and my abilities as 
suited for the fulfilment of the duties of 
such a position. 

“Your most obedient etc. etc.” 

The letter was sealed and sent by Wil- 
liam. Father Miller went as usual to 
Herr Hartmanns office, and returned 
home about six o’clock in the evening. 
His wife hastened to meet him in the 
hall, and held up in her hand a large let- 
ter, sealed with five seals. “ From the 
Privy-Counsellor. Just received!” she 
cried. “Dietrich has scarcely left the 
door.” 


38 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

“Now we shall see how the sport 
goes ! ” replied Father Miller, smiling 
at the excitement and impatience of his 
wife. “Hold on, if your husband will 
only be a scoundrel, you can be called the 
Privy-Counsellor’s wife to-day yet.” 

He took the letter, went with his wife 
into the chamber and broke the five seals, 
which fastened the letter. From the en- 
velope there fell a small billet and a 
large sheet of manuscript. The latter 
Father Miller unfolded, gave it but one 
glance, and then handed it to his wife in 
silence. It was the appointment of the 
poor copyist as Counsellor, very correctly 
prepared, and even provided with the 
king’s signature. In the accompanying 
billet the following' was written: “My 
worthy colleague; your wishes are so 
modest, and your abilities and talents, 
which I have represented with suitable 
zeal to his Majesty, our very gracious 
king, so great, that it affords me especial 
pleasure to transmit you your appoint- 
ment. Your true zeal and well-known 


IF SINNERS ENTICE THEE, CONSENT THOU NOT. 39 

attachment to the royal family have de- 
served this recognition for some time. I 
beg that you will make me a visit to-day, 
so that I may hear from your own mouth, 
that I have been successful in gratifying 
you, and don’t forget to bring along the 
document in question. Your obedient 
etc. etc.” 

“Do you see the hypocrite now? ” cried 
out Father Miller contemptuously. “Do 
you understand now, wife, what a rascal 
the Privy-Counsellor Werthlos is, and 
how justly and properly he deserves the 
name of worthless? Did I not tell you, 
that everything would turn out just as 
it has in fact occurred? Do you see now, 
what breeze was wafting the Secretary’s 
appointment to me? Yes, Herr Privy- 
Counsellor, you have for once run stone 
blind, right into the trap! Do you see, 
wife, if I had been satisfied with the Sec- 
retary’s place, the appointment perhaps 
would not have been so quickly made; 
for the sly fox had not considered me 
then bold enough for the business? But 


40 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


when I asked the appointment of Coun- 
sellor, as a reward for treachery and ras- 
cality — that ensured it. He considers 
me now, on account of my shamelessness, 
as great a knave as himself, and there- 
fore he does not suspect, that we have 
only been playing a trick on him. Now 
his eyes shall be fully opened; for I do 
not wish that such a scamp should think 
me his equal for a single night. ” 

He took the Patent, which appointed 
him to the King’s Council, from the hand 
of his wife, who remained seated stiff with 
amazement, sealed it up again very care- 
fully, and endorsed on it the following: 

“ Right Honorable Sir : You are a dis- 
tinguished rascal, and I am a poor, but 
honest copyist. Because I am such I re- 
turn you the Patent. Do you keep your 
Counsellor’s appointment, and I will keep 
the document, which shall help the Coun- 
tess Kronberg to her rights in spite of all 
your tricks. Your obedient servant — 
Miller, the copyist. ” 

“ There, take. that to the Herr Privy- 


IF SINNERS ENTICE THEE, CONSENT THOU NOT. 41 

Counsellor Werthlos,” lie said to his son, 
whom he found in the sitting-room. “An 
answer is not necessary/’ 

William started off, and Father Miller 
returned to his wife, who was at length 
recovering her senses. 

“There you have it,” said he. “Only 
be glad that you didn’t bet with me ! If 
you had made the bet, you would have 
been obliged to pay it to the last penny.” 

“No, I never supposed, that there were 
men in the whole world so wicked,” said 
Mother Miller. 

“Indeed! Yes, yes, we are always 
thinking, that it is only the poor peo- 
ple who are wicked and have no con- 
sciences, and no honest hearts under their 
coarse clothes !” said Father Miller. 
“But no ! wealth does not give these, — 
it is the fear of God such as springs from 
faith in Jesus Christ. And you may find 
that quite as often under a straw- 
thatch, as in the marble palaces of rich 
and noble lords ! Indeed more frequent- 
ly ; for, oh, how often has the poor man, 


42 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

no friend in the world but the dear Lord 
above in Heaven, who is the merciful 
Father of us all in Jesus Christ His Son. 
So long as they build on Him and hold 
fast to Him, so long they need have no 
fear, even if they know not, whence the 
scraps of bread shall come to satisfy the 
hunger of the next day. Well now ! 
that’s settled. Make a mark there. 
Come now to supper, my dear Counsel- 
lor’s wife of half an hour.” 

With mock courtesy, Father Miller ex- 
tended his arm to his brave wife and es- 
corted her to the sitting-room, where 
Anna had prepared the table in the 
meantime. There was very little conver- 
sation on this subject during the rest of 
the evening. Both father and mother 
considered it as settled, and the fear, 
which Mother Miller entertained, was, 
that the Privy-Counsellor might seek to 
revenge himself on her husband, but the 
father met this with a contemptuous 
shrug of the shoulders and these few 
words : “ How can he harm me ? I do 


IF SINNERS ENTICE THEE, CONSENT THOU NOT. 43 

my duty honestly as far as is in my pow- 
er, and for the rest I put my trust in 
Him, who is mightier than all men, be 
they Privy-Counsellors or what not.” 

Mother Miller was satisfied with this 
answer, and slept as sweetly and peace- 
ably as though she never had had a pros- 
pect in her whole life, of being trans- 
formed from the wife of a poor copyist 
into the wife of a Counsellor. Father 
Miller had forgotten the whole story, 
the next morning, and went, as on other 
mornings, to his duties without thinking 
in the slightest manner that his honesty 
would still have to undergo a very severe 
test. And the trial was certainly severe, 
when it is recollected with what troubles 
the brave man had been obliged to con- 
tend, year in and year out. Father Mil- 
ler knew, that he had done his duty, and 
as he considered this as nothing extraor- 
dinary, he never reflected whether there 
was any merit in it or not. 


CHAPTER III. 


A HEAVY BLOW. 

weeks after the occurrences 
h have been already narra- 
ted, Father Miller one morning entered 
the office of Herr Hartmann, wishing to 
begin his work as usual. But his desk 
had been put aside, the papers removed 
from it, and the cupboard, which con- 
tained the most important documents, 
had been locked. 

“ Zounds! what does this mean?” 
thought he. “This is wonderful con- 
fusion. ” 

No one was present, who could give 
him any explanation; for Father Miller 
was in the habit of being first at his 
work. As he couldn’t unravel the rid- 
44 



A HEAVY BLOW. 


45 


die at present, he placed himself at the 
window, looked up the street to watch 
the people passing by, in order to occupy 
the time until the arrival of Herr Hart- 
mann. The other clerks came in grad- 
ually, took places at their own desks and 
cast stolen glances at Father Miller, 
whose inactivity was novel and unheard 
of in the office. To his question, wheth- 
er they knew who had taken away the 
key from his desk and removed the pa- 
pers, they were not able to give an an- 
swer. 

At length Herr Hartmann came. But 
instead of beginning his work, he looked 
at Father Miller with an earnest, angry 
look, and beckoning him to follow, led 
the way to his sitting-room. 

“Out of respect for your age and the 
many years you have served under me, ” 
he began with icy scorn, “ I will commu- 
nicate what I have to say here, and not 
in the presence of the other clerks. You 
are dismissed from my service and here” 
— placing a roll of coin on the table — 


4 6 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


“ is the pay due you. A man who would 
so basely and infamously betray my con- 
fidence, I do not wish to look upon any 
more. Take your money and leave me !” 

Father Miller stood as if struck with 
lightning. It was indeed a stroke from 
a clear sky, and the brave man knew not 
whence it could have come to him. His 
countenance was pale as death, and some 
seconds elapsed before he could find 
words to inquire into the cause of this 
unlooked-for and entirely unexpected oc- 
currence. 

“For Heaven’s sake, Herr Hartmann, 
am I awake or do I dream ? ” he stam- 
mered out at last. “You do not mean 
to say, that I have deceived you in a 
base manner, — I, who have been your 
most faithful servant for so many years V 9 

“ It is so much the worse, that you be- 
came a traitor in your old age!” an- 
swered Herr Hartmann. “ Spare your 
words and protestations; for they can no 
longer deceive me. Here is your money 
— I hope you will not expect any testi- 


A HEAVY BLOW. 


47 


monials of good conduct. It is enough, 
that I do not, through my excessive in- 
dulgence, publicly put you in the pillory. ” 

“What! Traitor — Pillory? Are these 
the words to apply to me?” shrieked 
Father Miller, quite beside himself. Sud- 
denly collecting himself, he approached 
Herr Hartmann, and looked him in the 
face with open, flashing eyes. “Herr 
Hartmann,” said he, with' a firm, deter- 
mined voice; “it is only a poor copyist, 
who stands before you, but that poor 
copyist is an honorable man! You and 
I cannot leave this chamber, until I 
know the crime with which I am charged. 
From your service you can dismiss me, 
but you dare not heap disgrace and ig- 
nominy upon me. You shall speak, and 
I will defend myself. Miller, the old 
copyist, clings to his honorable name, 
and no man on earth shall calumniate 
him.” 

The firm resolution of the man, who 
had served him truly and honestly for 
many years, made some impression on 
Herr Hartmann. 


48 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

‘ ? Well,” said he, “I will place the 
proof of your infamy before your eyes ? 
so that you can stand no longer before 
me as an insolent liar. Oh Miller, I, 
who ever wished you well, who unre- 
servedly gave you my whole confidence, 
— I could never have believed, that I 
had nourished a serpent in my bosom, 
had the proof not been furnished me. 
Here see for yourself, and then disown 
it if you can ! ” 

Herr Hartmann opened a drawer in 
his writing-table, took a paper from it, 
and held it before Father Miller’s eyes. 
His face became alternately white and 
pale, a cry of anguish escaped his lips, 
and he raised his hands as if imploring 
help from Heaven. At the first glance, 
he discovered the letter which he had 
written some weeks before to the Privy- 
Counsellor Werthlos, and in which he 
had demanded the post of Counsellor, 
as the price for delivering the document 
in question. This miserable letter! How 
it could be misconstrued, if the exact 


A HEAVY BLOW. 


49 


history of the whole affair were not 
known! Herr Hartmann was obliged 
to believe that Miller was guilty, that he 
was willing to betray his unbounded con- 
fidence, if by his treachery, he could only 
purchase a better and more agreeable po- 
sition in the world. Father Miller, at 
first glance, knew that appearances were 
most decidedly against him, and this con- 
viction crushed him so completely, that 
he could not utter a word, and hence he 
stood, not like an innocent man, but like 
a convicted traitor. As such, Herr Hart- 
mann was naturally obliged to look on 
him, and, therefore, he deprived the old 
servant of each and every opportunity 
for defence and of all proof of his inno- 
cence, by saying: “ Your agitation speaks 
clearly enough, to make any further proof 
unnecessary, especially as you acknowl- 
edge the crime. Leave my house, Sir, 
and recollect, that I will never more see 
you.” 

“But, Herr Hartmann” — began Father 
Miller, who had recovered from his pal- 
5 


5 ° 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


sied horror, “only listen to me, and al- 
though I can present no proofs of my in- 
nocence to you, still you will see, that 
nothing was farther from my intention 
than the commission of a dishonest act.” 

“I will hear nothing, positively no- 
thing !” said Herr Hartmann with em- 
phasis. “ It would give me still more pain 
to hear any lies from your mouth. Leave 
me, leave me, Herr Miller ! This letter 
speaks more plainly than any words, as 
to your guilt. No more — I will not hear 
a word more !” 

Father Miller made another attempt to 
establish his innocence, but Herr Hart- 
mann turned his back on him contempt- 
uously, and drummed with his fingers so 
loud on the panes of glass, that Father 
Miller found it impossible to make him- 
self heard. The honest man’s heart 
swelled with righteous indignation at 
this scornful treatment, which he could 
call God and man to witness he had not 
deserved. His pride was aroused. He 
recollected with what genuine self-sacri- 


A HEAVY BLOW. 


51 


fice he had toiled for Herr Hartmann 
through so many years, and he was pro- 
voked, that he should now be condemned 
on a mere suspicion, which might after 
all only be a pretext. 

“Herr Hartmann,” he said, at the 
same time seizing the arm of his remorse- 
less J udge, in order to fasten his atten- 
tion for at least a few seconds, “Herr 
Hartmann, you have done me injustice, 
and the time will yet come, when you will 
acknowledge that you have grievously in- 
jured old Miller without cause. I am 
an innocent, honest man, have been a 
faithful, zealous laborer in your service. 
What will become of me, after you have 
dismissed me so ignominiously, God alone 
knows. But I depart with fearless and 
trusting heart; for the good Lord still 
reigns, and He will establish my inno- 
cence. Farewell, Herr Hartmann ! I 
leave you without anger or ill feeling; 
for your penitence and request for pardon 
will compensate me, at some future time, 
for these bitter hours.” 


52 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


Father Miller waited for no answer, 
but departed with firm step and proud 
bearing. Herr Hartmann looked after 
him with astonishment. He had not be- 
lieved, that Father Miller would leave 
him in that way. He supposed, he 
would have been able to dismiss a con- 
fessed guilty and ruined man, but now 
he almost felt as though he himself were 
the guilty person. He took a step to- 
wards the door, with the intention of 
calling back the faithful servant of many 
years, whom he had ignominiously dis- 
missed, in order to hear his defence ; but 
a glance at the unfortunate letter checked 
his course, and he muttered angrily to 
himself : “ What good will it do ? If the 

shameful fellow is able to excuse himself 
on the score of intention, the intention is 
still there, and that is reason enough for 
removing him. He is guilty, although 
he does not merit very severe punish- 
ment ; for indeed, the temptation to 
wrong doing was great, the reward so at- 
tractive for a poor copyist, who could 


A HEAVY BLOW. 


53 


barely make liis daily support. It is 
enough, that I do not punish him more 
severely; enough, that I have had re- 
gard to long years of true attachment ; 
and hence do not punish him with public 
contempt and scorn. ,, 

He locked the letter up again in his 
desk, and then went into his office, and 
here he soon appeared to have forgotten 
honest Father Miller, in the midst of im- 
portant labors and duties. 

But, in the meantime, what does poor, 
unhappy Father Miller do, now troubled 
with the bitterest cares as to his support ? 
Pale and disturbed, he left the place, 
where he had worked and labored faith- 
fully up to that time, and immersed in 
thought, took the road to his own little 
house. But as he was about opening the 
door, it occurred to him, how very much 
frightened his good wife would be, if he 
were to meet her suddenly and she were 
to read the disaster in his countenance. 
Therefore, he turned quickly back and 
took a walk through the neighboring 


54 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


woods, in order first to secure control 
over liis own sadness, and then to be able 
to appear before the partner of his life, 
with a more quiet spirit. 

For more than an hour, he walked up 
and down through paths in the woods, 
shaded by the over-hanging boughs, and 
struggled for that composure, which he 
so much needed, seeking with a trem- 
bling, feverish spirit,- some outlet from 
the distress, that had brought him to the 
verge of misery. What would become of 
his family, so suddenly deprived of its 
means of support ? Where could he find 
another position or another occupation, 
after one, who had employed him for so 
many years, had driven him from his 
office, without furnishing a testimonial 
of his good behavior ? Who would trust 
him, when they ascertained, that those, 
whom he so faithfully and diligently 
served, had no confidence in him ? 

In vain did Father Miller seek an 
answer to these questions. He saw no- 
thing before him but poverty, misery, 


A HEAVY BLOW. 


55 


scorn, ignominy and the fearful spectre 
of hunger. And all this, with the con- 
scious feeling, that he had honestly per- 
formed his duty, and had done nothing in 
violation of law or conscience. The 
thought, “I am innocent,” gave him at 
length new strength. 

“The good Lord still reigns,” he re- 
peated, and folded his hands. “He looks 
into my heart. He knows my most se- 
cret thoughts and feelings. He knows 
my innocence of the crime, with which I 
have been charged, and it will be a small 
matter for Him to show my innocence, 
when the proper day and hour arrives.” 
“Oh great God,” he prayed, “give me 
strength through Thy dear Son, to endure 
this visitation ! From Thee comes what- 
ever rejoices or grieves us ! Then will I 
hold fast to the belief, that this cup 
comes from Thy fatherly hand, and in 
this belief will I abide until Thou re- 
movest it from my lips. What Thou 
dost is well done, and therefore, although 
I fear, yet will I not despair.” 




STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


As a prayer to the Father of our Lord 
Jesus Christ in Heaven, flowing forth 
from the depths of a resigned and trusting 
heart, ever brings back a salutary peace 
to the storm-tossed soul, so Father Miller 
now found that calmness, which would 
enable him to appear before his wife and 
children, with a quiet countenance. His 
heart indeed was full of fear, but he did 
not despair; and although he knew no 
more now than before how his family was 
to be supported, he hoped, nevertheless, 
that the good Lord would show him 
ways and means, so that he could at least 
ward off extreme misery from the heads 
of his dear ones. Peaceful and resigned, 
in this hope, he went home and appeared 
before his wife with a face slightly pale, 
but with bright eyes. 

“Mother,” said he, “the good Lord 
lays on us a heavy trial. Strengthen 
your heart with faith and courage, for it 
must needs be strong, in order to bear the 
blow, which has fallen upon us, without 
any fault of ours.” 


A HEAVY BLOW. 


57 


“For Heaven’s sake, what has hap- 
pened?” asked Mother Miller. “Our 
children — ” 

“No, our suffering is not as great as 
that,” said the father, catching up the 
sentence. “The children are, God he 
thanked ! all well ; but, compose yourself, 
Herr Hartmann has dismissed me from 
his service.” 

The painful words had been spoken, 
and Father Miller breathed with his cus- 
tomary ease, after they had escaped from 
his struggling breast. He supposed, that 
the mother would burst into tears and 
exclamations of grief. But no ! instead 
of complaining, she only said; “God be 
praised, that nothing has happened to 
the children ! I feared some misfortune 
had befallen them !” 

After a little while, it occurred to her, 
that this event was also a great misfor- 
tune, and then she grew pale and asked : 
“But how has this happened, husband, 
dear ?” 

Father Miller told his tale. While he 


58 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


was speaking, one tear after another 
moistened the mother’s eyes : and when 
she knew the whole, she wept in silence 
before him. He, with his hands crossed 
behind his back and his head bowed, as 
was his custom, walked up and down the 
small room. He suffered his wife to weep 
for a few minutes ; then approached her, 
seized her hand and pressing it gently, 
said in a softened tone : “ Don’t take it so 
hard, dearest ! Think only of your own 
proverb, of which you have so often 
reminded me, ‘The good Lord still 
reigns !’ He will grant help, when the 
children of men can see none.” 

“Ah, husband, dear, I am not weeping 
on that account,” replied Mother 'Miller, 
and she raised her streaming eyes to gaze 
upon her spouse. “I weep only, because 
I — I alone am responsible for the whole 
misfortune ! Had I not believed so firm- 
ly in the honorable intentions of the 
Privy-Counsellor Werthlos, the unfor- 
tunate letter would not have been writ- 
ten, and you would, as usual, have taken 


A HEAVY BLOW. 


59 


the straight road, which is always, even 
as we now see, the best. My poor, dear 
husband, can you forgive me, since my 
folly has brought all this trouble upon 
your head ?” 

Mother Miller looked up into the eyes 
of her husband, anxiously and imploring- 
ly ; but she discovered no resentment or 
ill-will there, and if she had indeed sup- 
posed, that Father Miller would lay the 
whole blame on her, that look convinced 
her of her error. 

“Do not trouble and grieve yourself 
about such things. They will only make 
your heart sad without cause,” said Fath- 
er Miller. “If there is any one to be 
blamld, it is I ; for I should have reflect- 
ed seriously as to the effects of a letter, 
such as I wrote the Privy-Counsellor, 
when turned against me. But then I did 
not think, that the revenge of a wicked 
man could go so Air as to destroy the in- 
nocent. What has happened, has hap- 
pened with God’s permission ; therefore, 
we will not torment ourselves with self- 


6o 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


reproaches and unnecessary thoughts and 
reflections, as to whether this or that 
might have been done or avoided. It is 
enough, that oar consciences are clear; 
we are not guilty in fact or in intention, 
of that with which I have been charged, 
and it is this, next to our trust in the 
Most High, which must tend to our con- 
solation in suffering.” 

“And this consciousness is aright pow- 
erful and effective consolation,” said 
Mother Miller, smiling amid her tears, 
whilst she embraced her humbled, but 
not despairing spouse. “You are right: 
The good Lord still reigns ! and we will 
look up to Him, raise our hearts to Him, 
through faith in His dear Son, so that we 
may remain firm and endure courageously 
whatever is to be endured. Have no care 
for the morrow, husband, dear ! There 
lives One above us, who has cared for us 
through many a year, and will still care 
for us to the end of life. To those who 
love God, you well know, all things must 
turn out for the best ; and so let us hope 


A HEAVY BLOW. 


61 


and believe, that, even now as ever be- 
fore, this promise will be fulfilled !” 

“ Amen ! Amen ! So may it be !” said 
Father Miller, and with a more peaceful 
heart than one could have supposed, he 
discussed with his wife what was next 
to be done, in order to obtain at least the 
necessaries of life, until it would please 
the Lord to open up before the poor 
ones, a clearer and more joyful prospect 
in the future. Thus they sat and con- 
versed, until the children returned home 
at noon from school, and clamored noisi- 
• ly as usual for their dinner. Conversa- 
tion was then naturally broken off; but 
the father and mother had so mastered 
their feelings, that William, the oldest 
boy, could scarcely discover any traces of 
the storm, that had just passed over the 
souls of his beloved parents. 

6 




CHAPTER IV. 


WILLIAM AND ANNA. 



UT, mother, why do we have 
black bread to-day with our 
milk, instead of fresh wheat 
bread ?” asked little Albert weeping, and 
pushing the piece of bread away, which 
his mother had given him. 

The mother attempted a faint smile, 
but the attempt was so little successful, 
that the observant William felt its con- 
strained character, as he noticed it. In 
order to spare his mother an explana- 
tion, he ate a piece of the bread heartily, 
and said pleasantly : “ Don’t cry, Albert ! 
Fie, why do you make such an ugly face ? 
There now, try the bread and eat it ! It 
tastes just as good as wheat bread, and 
besides, it is much stronger .” 

62 



WILLIAM AND ANNA. 


6 3 

Albert tried the bread, but didn’t seem 
of the same opinion with William. He 
remained cross; his face became broad- 
er and broader, until at last he was about 
to cry out right lustily, when his father 
interfered, and ordered the dainty little 
fellow in such an authoritative way to 
eat his bread properly, that, without fur- 
ther ceremony, he suppressed his tears 
and dropped the bread into his milk. 

The simple breakfast was soon con- 
sumed, when Father Miller arose and 
grasped his hat. 

“Come with me, William,” he said. “I 
want to talk with you.” 

William was ready at once, and fol- 
lowed his father into the garden back of 
the house, where the latter told him, in 
few words, that he had lost his place 
without any fault of his, and as it was 
likely they would be without means of 
subsistence for some time, it was necessa- 
ry to use the strictest economy. 

“You are an intelligent boy, William,” 
he said, “and I can speak with you with- 


6 4 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


out reserve. Now, I know very well that 
you are anxious to continue your studies, 
•and if the attainment of your wishes 
could be secured by any sacrifice from 
your parents, they would be made with 
the greatest pleasure. But you see, Wil- 
liam, there is not even the slightest pros- 
pect, and, therefore, this is the reason I 
speak to you now, that you may think 
whether you cannot, in some other way, 
obtain a living in the future.” 

William had become quite pale, while 
his father was telling him this. It had 
always been his heartfelt desire, and most 
ardent longing, to devote himself to his 
favorite studies. And now, the whole 
structure of his bright dreams had been 
overthrown by one word. 

“Oh father,” said he, “is it absolutely 
impossible for me to go on? Indeed I 
would do double work very willingly 
and deprive myself of almost everything, 
if I could only remain with my books.” 

The father shrugged his shoulders. “I 
see no hope for you, my poor boy,” he re- 


WILLIAM AND ANNA, 65 

plied with tender compassion. “It would 
be difficult, if not quite impossible, in our 
present circumstances, even to pay for 
your tuition.” 

“But, father, suppose the Director 
would take me as a free scholar? If I 
could only attend school, without pay, 
for one year longer ! Only one year more 
— one short year ! In that time so many 
things might change ; and if not — well ! 
there still will be time enough for me to 
learn a trade, or perhaps some other busi- 
ness.” 

Father Miller shook his head, and not- 
withstanding his tender sympathy for his 
boy, would have given another denial, 
had not the mother, at this moment, 
come up to them and put the finishing 
stroke to the business. 

“Grant his request, father,” she said. 
“The poor boy will certainly grieve him- 
self to death, if he is obliged to throw 
away his fondly cherished books in order 
to take the plane or chisel, and it would 
be a thousand pities, if all the work of 
6 * 


66 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


his early years, his hard-earned know- 
ledge, did not bear him any fruit. Let 
us try it, and hope, that the dear Lord 
will sustain us in it. Let us not burden 
ourselves with more labor and economy 
than is necessary, and William will then 
so much the more joyfully and happily 
strike out some other road for securing 
his future, when he himself, can say, that 
nothing had been neglected towards satis- 
fying his wishes.” 

William looked at his father with a 
countenance radiant with joy, and the 
latter could not resist his silent but elo- 
quent appeal. 

“Well! let us try it,” he said. “In 
no event will the knowledge acquired by 
our William be lost, and whatever posi- 
tion he may attain, this will sooner or 
later be profitable.” 

William embraced his parents with ar- 
dent affection, and tears of joy sparkled 
in his eyes, as he yowed to requite their 
enduring love and kindness, with the 
most earnest application of all his facul- 
ties. Happy at heart, lie betook himself 


WILLIAM AND ANNA. 


6 7 


immediately to the School-Director, and 
applied for free instruction for one year. 
The request was immediately granted 
him with friendly words, on account of 
his constant good behavior, and William, 
highly elated, communicated the good 
news to his parents, who saw in it a hap- 
py omen for the future. 

“Now, don’t you see,” said Mother 
Miller to her husband, “ the good Lord 
still reigns, and will further help us.” 

“Yes, that I hope, with all my soul,” 
replied the father. “But, on that ac- 
count, we must not neglect anything that 
is proper or possible. I will go out and 
look around to see if I can find a new 
situation.” 

He pressed the hands of his wife and 
child, and then went away to seek a si- 
tuation, such as he had filled for so many 
years with Herr Hartmann, the Notary. 
The mother betook herself to the house, 
and William, beckoning his sister Anna, 
went with her to the large elder-bush at 
the extreme end of the garden. 


68 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


“Anna,” he said, “do you know, that 
our dear, good father has lost his situa- 
tion?” 

“Yes, indeed, William,” replied the 
girl. “Mother told me of it a little 
while ago, and that we must live very 
sparingly and learn to economize in 
everything.” 

“ That we must, indeed, my dear, little 
sister,” said William. “But see, we can 
even do more than that. We can take 
away from our parents a portion of their 
crushing cares, and not only economize 
but even help them !” 

“Help them, William ! Money will 
help them. Can we give that to our pa- 
rents?” cried Anna, in a joyful state of 
excitement. “Oh brother, if it were only 
possible, 1 would work night and day. 
Tell me only, how and in what manner.” 

“Listen, and I will tell you ; for I have 
brought you here for that purpose,” re- 
plied William. “Do you see out there, in 
front of our house, that beautiful large 
house with green shutters, which we 
have so often admired ? You recollect ?” 


WILLIAM AND ANNA. 


69 


Anna nodded. “It has a flower-win- 
dow, where even in mid-winter the pret- 
tiest flowers are placed,” she said. “But 
what is there about the house ?” 

“Well now, in that house there lives 
a rich man, the Book-seller Ehrlich, who 
prints and publishes picture-books, than 
which you can scarcely imagine anything 
more beautiful. I have a school-com- 
panion, Fritz Kauscher, who tells me, 
that his mother gets a quantity of pic- 
tures from Herr Ehrlich every week, 
which she colors, and gets enough money 
for the work to support nerself and her 
son nicely. He told me also, that Herr 
Ehrlich was a very kind, good man, 
pleasant and friendly to every body; 
and then it occurred to me, that I would 
go to him and ask if he would give me 
some pictures to color : and then, if you 
and I would get up early m the morn- 
ing, and paint right diligently, could we 
not make a little money for father and 
mother ?” 

“Oh William, if that only could be 


7 o 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


done!” exclaimed Anna, clapping her 
hands with joy. “If Herr Ehrlich would 
trust his beautiful pictures to us . How 
grand it would be ! And indeed, we 
could do that work. We have already 
painted so much, and the more indus- 
triously we work at it, the better we shall 
be able to do it. It is very certain that we 
can make some money that way. But 
you must recollect Herr Ehrlich doesn’t 
know us. He won’t give us the work !” 

“ That may be so, Anna, but I will at 
least try,” said William. “Take care 
and say nothing about this to father and 
mother, before we have earned some 
money together. They mustn’t know 
anything about the whole plan, until it is 
fully under way.” 

“I will take good care,” added Anna. 
“No, no, our parents must be surprised, 
completely and fully surprised ! There 
will be a jubilation, when we bring them 
the bright pieces of money.” 

William nodded, and looked pleasantly 
at his sister. “I am so glad,” he said, 
“ that you are ready to help me.” 


WILLIAM AND ANNA. 71 

“Why should I not? You didn’t 
doubt it?” rejoined Anna. “Oh Wil- 
liam, what a wicked girl I should be, if I 
should forget what our good parents have 
done for us, and how great a debt of gra- 
titude we owe them. Day and night I 
would work only to show how I love 
them.” 

“Yes, indeed, Anna, you are a brave, 
good girl!” said William, giving his sis- 
ter a hearty kiss. “In fact, I never 
doubted you for an instant; yet I thought 
you wouldn’t like to get up so early as 
we must, if we wish to furnish some sub- 
stantial help. Now only keep perfectly 
silent, and I will go directly to Herr 
Ehrlich’s. We can work splendidly in 
our little garret-room, without being no- 
ticed by father and mother, and then — 
when we come home with our pay — - 
that will give them pleasure. I already 
feel the joy of it. ” 

“And I also,” said Anna. “Only go, 
William, go ! We can even begin to- 
morrow, if Herr Ehrlich will trust his 
pictures to us. ” 


7 2 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


William put on his cap and started. 
During his absence, Anna collected all 
their brushes and color-shells, carried 
them up to the garret-room, and then 
went with her work out into the garden 
and there waited her brother’s return. 
One hour passed, and then a second, — 
noon was near at hand, and still nothing 
could be seen or heard of William. An- 
na began to feel sad; for she believed 
that her joy had been premature, and 
that William had been refused by Herr 
Ehrlich. But suddenly a rustling was 
heard behind the arbor, and William, 
pushing his head through the leaves of 
the elder bushes, asked, in a low tone of 
voice — “ Is any one in the garden ? ” 

“No one but I!” answered Anna. 
“But how did you succeed, William ?” 

“Well, very well!” cried the boy, and 
his eyes flashed with delight. “Only 
wait a minute and you shall hear all. 
But take this package, first. ” 

He pushed the package through under 
the garden pailings, and Anna seized it 
with great joy; for its whole appearance 


WILLIAM AND ANNA. 


73 


showed, that it contained the pictures. 
William then went around the garden, 
came in through the house, and carried 
the package in at the back door, so that 
his mother should not see it, up-stairs 
to the garret-room, where he placed it 
in an old chest, and carefully took the 
key away with him. Then he hurried 
back to his sister, who patiently waited 
both his return and his story. 

“Now be quick,” said she. “How 
did you succeed, William? But how 
is this — you are all wet ? ” 

“Don’t trouble yourself about that,” 
replied William. “ If I hadn’t been 
made wet, it would have gone quite badly 
with me. But now listen. I went to 
see Herr Ehrlich, and entered his house 
with an anxious but hopeful heart. I 
was not after anything wrong, but only 
wished to ask for work, and that was 
no disgrace. A servant, who was carry- 
ing a great roll of paper on his back, 
showed me into the counting-room, when 
I told him I wished to see Herr Ehrlich. 


7 


74 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

“ When I knocked at the door, ‘ Come in/ 
cried some one from the inside sharply, 
and, although frightened at the loud 
voice, I obeyed the invitation, and then, 
you may well believe, Anna, I began to 
lose my courage. There were several 
gentlemen in the counting-room. — One 
of these, with spectacles on his nose, 
turned towards me, and very coolly asked 
— ‘What are you wanting?’ ‘I wish 
to speak with Herr Ehrlich, ’ said I. ‘ I 
am he,’ answered the man with the 
spectacles, and looked so sharply at me, 
that I became quite confused and was 
scarcely able to talk. He asked me once 
more what I wanted with him, and who 
I was, and then I stammered out my re- 
quest. ‘It cannot be, my dear!’ he said ? 
shrugging his shoulders. ‘ I am already 
supplied with enough colorists, and then 
— you seem to me to be so young, that I 
couldn’t trust my pictures to you with 
any confidence.’ 

“Oh, Anna, when Herr Ehrlich told 
me that, I was ready to cry and indeed 


WILLIAM AND ANNA. 


75 


would have burst into tears, if I hadn’t 
been ashamed to do so before the gentle- 
men in the counting-room. Still I col- 
lected myself, and asked Herr Ehrlich 
once more, that he would only give me a 
fair trial, promising to take right good 
care to satisfy him. But it was of no use : 
Herr Ehrlich persisted in his refusal, and 
turned away from me to his books. I 
saw that nothing more was to be done 
there. Sadly I said good-morning, and 
crept out of the house with such a heavy 
heart, that I thought I could never more 
be happy. But hear now, what oc- 
curred. Instead of running back imme- 
diately to you, I went down to the pond, 
that is not far from Herr Ehrlich’s house. 
You know where it is? and seated my- 
self in the bushes. There, Anna, I wept; 
yes, I couldn’t restrain the tears; and 
then I thought — ‘Herr Ehrlich isn’t as 
good and friendly, as Fritz Rauscher told 
me he was. He might have tried me, at 
least once.’ While I was sitting there 
and thinking such thoughts, a party of 


7 6 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


little boys, with butterfly-nets, came 
down and were fishing with them in the 
pond. At first, I paid no attention to 
them ; but you cant understand of what 
importance these youngsters were to me. 
Suddenly I heard one of them scream 
out: ‘My net! my net!’ and looking 
sharply, I saw his net floating on the wa- 
ter, while the other boys, instead of reach- 
ing out for it, managed so stupidly, that 
they were only pushing it further off. 
Notwithstanding my own troubles, I pit- 
ied the poor little fellow, crying so pite- 
ously for his net, and springing up, I ran 
to him and said: ‘ Don’t cry so. I’ll 
get it for you. ’ The little fellow hushed 
up, and stared at me with astonishment. 
Taking one of the other boy’s nets, I 
reached out carefully after that which 
was floating. I might not have been 
careful enough, or a stone may have 
given way under my feet. — In short, I 
slipped, and splash ! there I was up to 
my neck in water, and it was a blessing 
then that I could swim. The little fel- 
lows screamed out with pure fright, while 


WILLIAM AND ANNA. 


77 


I thought: ‘You are wet now. — You 
had better be wet for some purpose. 
Swim after the net and bring it with you 
to the shore.’ Then you should have 
heard the shouts, which the little fellows 
gave me. I gave the little one his net, 
and was about running off quickly to dry 
my clothes at home, when a man, whom 
I recognized at first glance from the spec- 
tacles on his nose as Herr Ehrlich, came 
around the corner. The screaming had 
brought him out, and he probably 
thought, some accident had happened. 
He found out, in a few words from the 
boys, what was the matter. The first 
thing he did, was to give the little boy, 
whose net had fallen into the water, a 
right good box on the ear, and then he 
came and looked at me sharply from head 
to foot. 

“ ‘ Aha V said he abruptly, ‘ are you not 
the young man, who asked me, a few 
hours ago, for some pictures to color ?’ 

“I felt that my face was as red as blood, 
and nodded my head. 


78 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

“‘So, so; well, come then, my little 
son, I will try you once. He who leaps 
into the water from compassion for a 
screaming boy, deserves that one should 
engage him. Come with me.’ 

“ But, Anna, I tell you, I was heartily 
glad, when I heard Herr Ehrlich talking 
that way, and I retracted all the injustice 
I had done him in thought. He asked 
me what were my parents' names, where 
I lived and whatever else he wanted to 
know, and at last gave me a large pack- 
age of pictures, and said, if I understood 
the business and took pains, I should 
have as much coloring to do as I wished.. 
Of course, I thanked him for his kind- 
ness, took the package under my arm, and 
— here I am. To-morrow we can begin, 
if we please." 

“And we shall certainly please !” said 
Anna, joyously. “We will work very dili- 
gently, so that Herr Ehrlich shall be sa- 
tisfied with us, and we may earn a great 
deal of money. But now take off your 
coat, William. It will soon get dry here 


WILLIAM AND ANNA. 79 

in the sun, and then you need not tell 
how it became wet.” 

“You are right, otherwise the fun 
would be spoiled at the very beginning,” 
said William, and he spread his wet cloth 
coat on the turf. By noon it was again 
in good condition, and, when the father 
came home and seated himself with his 
family at the table to eat his potatoes and 
salt with them, no one asked how Wil- 
liam had spent the morning. Moreover, 
the father didn’t notice much of any- 
thing, but looked very sad and out of hu- 
mor, and scarcely said a word to his fa- 
mily during the meal. 



CHAPTER V. 



HAPPY IS THE MAN WHO LIVES TO SEE JOY 
IN HIS CHILDREN. 

j]XACTLY one week after the in- 
cidents narrated in the last chap- 
ter, Father Miller and his wife 
were sitting, in the afternoon, under the 
same elder-bushes, where Anna had so 
anxiously awaited the return of her bro- 
ther. The bright sun shone clear and 
pleasant on the beautiful, variegated 
flowers of the garden, while here and 
there, through the thick foliage of the 
elder-bushes, a bright ray fell, marking 
curiously-formed figures of light on the 
table. All was light and pleasant. Every- 
thing rejoiced in life. The butterflies 
played antics from flower to flower, a 
greenfinch sang with jubilant voice on 
80 


JOY IN CHILDREN. 8l 

the branches of the neighboring apple- 
tree, beetles of all kinds had collected 
together and were whizzing joyously 
through the air warmed by the rays of 
the sun which passed through it. Father 
Miller was the only one, who remained 
sad in the midst of this gayety, resting 
his head, heavy with cares, on his hand, 
and sighing deeply. 

“ It’s all to no purpose, mother!” he 
said, after an interval of anxious silence. 
“I have run all the day, from post to pil- 
lar, and have been turned away every- 
where with empty words. I see no other 
prospect before us, than that afforded by 
the beggar’s staff.” 

Any one could have seen, that the mo- 
ther’s soul was not happy ; but still she 
knew how to find friendly words, which 
might be consolatory to her distressed 
husband. "If you are anxious, dear 
husband, you mustn’t be discouraged,” 
she said with a soft, gentle voice. “ ‘When 
need is greatest, help is nearest/ the pro- 
verb promises ; and if the help is not yet 


82 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


here, you must recollect, that the need has 
not yet become intensely great.’’ 

“Ah, mother, you don’t believe your- 
self what you are saying,” replied Father 
Miller sadly. “What shall be done at 
last? The little pittance, which Herr 
Hartmann paid me, is daily becoming 
more and more slender, and the sun 
shines now without any obstacle what- 
ever through the meshes of your money- 
purse. To live more sparingly than at 
present we cannot, unless we wish to 
starve. I can find work with no one, al- 
though I have actually begged for it ; and 
with constant flowing out and nothing 
coming in, the largest pond must at last 
become empty. How much sooner will 
it not be at an end with our little cash ?” 

“Patience, husband, dear, patience,” 
answered the mother. “You are known 
throughout the whole city, as an honest, 
hard-working man, so that I can’t help 
but feel you must sooner or later find a 
situation.” 

“Find a situation! Oh, mother, only 


JOY IN CHILDREN. 


83 


give up such ambitious thoughts!” said 
Father Miller. “It is not to be thought 
of. No one will trust me even with any- 
thing to copy. Oh, Herr Hartmann and 
the Herr Privy-Counsellor Werthlos have 
taken pains to deprive me of the respect 
and confidence of all good men. It is 
now, wife, my greatest grief, that every 
body looks on me as a scoundrel and a 
rascal, that I have not only lost my situ- 
ation, but my honorable name also ! Oh, 
wife, if all men knew how sickening and 
painful it is to be treated with contempt 
when one is innocent, they would not be 
so precipitate in their judgments and con- 
demnations.” 

“ That is indeed the bitterest drop in 
our cup of sorrows,” replied the mother. 
“But, do not forget that there is a Su- 
preme Judge in Heaven, who will cer- 
tainly bring thy innocence to light, just 
as certainly and truly as you are inno- 
cent. The good Lord still reigns, hus- 
band, dear !” 

“Yes, mother, that is still my only 


84 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

comfort,” said Father Miller. “ If I did 
not know that I still have a friend, One 
who sticks closer than a brother — One 
who loves me and looks into my heart 
and knows my inmost thoughts, I should 
be forced to succumb under the burden of 
my misery. You do not know even all 
that hangs over us. I have kept con- 
cealed in my breast up to this time a 
very bitter piece of sorrowful news, be- 
cause I was hoping that the blow might 
yet be warded off. But it is of no use. 
You must find it out, and therefore, rath- 
er now than later.” 

“What now?” asked Mother Miller 
perplexed. “ What else has happened ?” 

“It can be told in a few words,” replied 
the father. “Herr Waldmann, who ad- 
vanced us the sum of one thousand dol- 
lars on our house, told me, day before 
yesterday, that he had sold my bond to 
the Privy-Counsellor Werthlos, and the 
Privy-Counsellor, to make the measure of 
my misfortune complete, demands the 
principal from me on the day it is due.” 


JOY IN CHILDREN. 


85 


“Now,” continued Father Miller, his 
poor wife having become perfectly pale 
with terror, “now, see, how basely and 
scandalously the Privy-Counsellor is act- 
ing. He knows better than we, that, at 
the present time, when brokers rarely 
loan and there is a scarcity of money 
everywhere, I cannot borrow from any 
one, and therefore, he demands the prin- 
cipal from me, so that he can have the 
greatest revenge, and thus drive me out 
of the house. This lies more heavily on 
my heart than I can tell you, because 
the house has belonged to our family for 
centuries, having been handed down from 
father to son. 

“ I have tried to borrow money, but no 
one will lend me, as every one knows, 
that I have no situation, and therefore, 
fears I will not be able to pay the inter- 
est. It is of no use, mother. We must 
leave these four walls, within which we 
have lived so many happy years. We must 
turn our backs on them and leave them 
in the hands of our enemy, who desires 
8 


86 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


to press me to the ground and to destroy 
me with my wife and children. Well, let 
that be so ! The good Lord will know 
how to find him out and punish him. 
That’s what I wish and hope for.” 

“ No, no, husband, dear !” said Mother 
Miller, drying the tears which, despite 
all her efforts to prevent, were flowing 
from her eyes, “wish no evil to your en- 
emy? You would then, as the Gospel 
tells us, be as bad as he is ! No, no, the 
blow is indeed heavy, which strikes us so 
unexpectedly, but the Lord tempers the 
wind even to the shorn lamb, and has 
He not also promised us His protection 
and help ? It is sad, yes, so sad that I 
can’t express my feelings at the thought 
of leaving our dear, little house. But yet, 
the good Lord still reigns, husband, dear, 
and whatever takes place, can only come 
upon us with His permission. Be com- 
forted. The wounds which the Lord in- 
flicts, He also heals with a gentle hand, 
if we look up to Him with a firm trust. 
Be comforted, and do not despair; for 


JOY IN CHILDREN. 87 

help is perhaps nearer than we short- 
sighted mortals think or anticipate.” 

Troubled as Father Miller was, the 
gentle persuasion, the confident words of 
comfort of his wife did not fail of their 
effect. He lifted up his bowed-down head 
with courage, pressed tenderly the hand 
of his brave wife, and said, with a look 
of heart-felt love : “ Truly, truly, to him 
whom the Lord loves is given a brave, 
good wife as the companion of his life ! 
It is at least a sweet fruit of our bitter 
sufferings, that I am learning to know 
your heart better, and becoming more and 
more convinced, how greatly the good 
Lord has blessed me through you. Yes, 
dear wife, when in distress we shall not 
despair ; for the good Lord still reigns , and 
He — He shall be our protection, shield 
and defence, though all mankind should 
despise, persecute and injure us !” 

Indeed it was a rich and glorious 
treasure, which the distressed man pos- 
sessed in his true wife. But God had 
given him not only this joy for comfort 


88 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


in suffering; both he and his wife had 
another, which they had by no means 
expected. With plans for the immediate 
future, with determinations to spare and 
retrench still more, wherever it was pos- 
sible, several hours were consumed, and 
the sun was setting very rapidly, when 
the garden-gate opened, and the two old- 
est children, William and Anna, entered 
the garden with countenances glowing 
and radiant with delight. They rushed 
to the arbor, where their parents were 
sitting, and approached them with flash- 
ing eyes. 

“ Father, mother — ” began William, 
“only guess what I have in my hand !” 

The parents smiling shook their heads, 
and Father Miller said they might think 
a long time before they could find out. 

“Only look here/' cried William, and 
holding his closed hand towards his pa- 
rents, he opened it just a very little, so 
that a white surface could be seen shin- 
ing within. 

“Perhaps you have gathered some 


JOY IN CHILDREN. 89 

white pebbles, William ?” said the fath- 
er. 

“No, something much better !” 

“Well then, tell us my dears — moth- 
er and I can’t guess it.” 

He waggishly laughed, while the fath- 
er and mother winked with their eyes. 
That he might not wait longer for an ex- 
pression of pleasant astonishment, Wil- 
liam opened his hand slowly, and — there 
two white newly coined solid silver dol- 
lars met his parents’ eyes. 

“For Heaven’s sake, William, where 
did you get that money ?” asked the pa- 
rents, really more frightened than re- 
joiced in the first minute. 

“ Did you find it, or perhaps st — ,” ad- 
ded the father? 

“No, father, no!” interrupted the very 
happy boy. “ I have earned it ; honestly 
earned it — Anna and I. Indeed it is true. 
Don’t you believe it? And what is 
more, we can earn as much every week, 
without your knowing how, unless we 
tell you.” 


8* 


go STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

“Earned it? You and Anna?” asked 
Father Miller, very much astonished. 
“But how then ?” 

And as if the children had only been 
waiting for the question, they began 
quickly to tell, mixing up Herr Ehrlich 
and butterfly-nets and pictures so com- 
pletely, that Father Miller became quite 
confused, although he ascertained so 
much as to learn, that the bright dollars 
at least reached the hands of his children 
honestly. After a little while, he be- 
came aware of the fact, that William and 
Anna had been employing their morning 
hours so profitably during the preceding 
week, that they had colored most ot the 
pictures obtained from Herr Ehrlich, and 
that they had carried them to him to-day, 
and received two dollars as their honest- 
ly-earned pay. 

The highly delighted parents heard 
this account with eyes flashing with 
pleasure, rejoicing more on account of 
the self-sacrificing love and affection of 
their brave children, than at the money 


JOY IN CHILDREN. 


91 


which they had earned for them so hon- 
estly. They embraced both affectionate- 
ly in their arms, and the father, with a 
voice trembling with excitement, said: 
“God bless you, my dear children! God 
bless you ! Indeed this is a great and 
supporting consolation the Lord has sent 
me through you, to quicken and raise up 
my depressed soul !” 

“ Don’t you see, husband, dear ?” cried 
the delighted mother, while a tear of joy 
sparkled in her eye, “don’t you see? The 
good Lord still reigns, and sends his 
blessings in streams over us, without our 
being able to anticipate whence they will 
come.” 

“Yes, indeed,” replied Father Miller, 
“the goodness of the Lord is great and, 
therefore, when distress comes, we shall 
not despair.” 

The children, who had so completely 
accomplished the surprise they wished, 
rejoiced no less than the happy parents, 
and determined, with joyous hearts, that 
they would continue the little occupa- 


92 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


tion they had undertaken, with a dili- 
gence equal to that already manifested. 

“And we, that is, I at least will be- 
come a scholar with you,” said Father 
Miller. “This old hand, that has held 
a pen so long, will also learn to manage 
the brush, and so I may earn at least 
something, until the good Lord will help 
me to my customary employment.” 

“And I shall not remain behind and 
play the idler, while you are employing 
your hands so busily,” added the mother. 
“ With a little practice we can all together 
do twice as much as the children alone, 
and then we shall have no mean income. 
Four dollars a week — we won’t starve on 
that, and besides we can have a little for 
the necessary clothing. Take comfort, 
William, if there is no prospect now of 
your being able to continue your studies 
for more than a year — a year is a long 
time, and many things may happen du- 
ring it, of which we neither know nor can 
conjecture anything. Above everything, 
I hope the innocence of your honest fa- 


JOY IN CHILDREN. 


93 


ther shall be brought to light, as clear as 
the sun, and — this being accomplished — 
then all need and sorrow will be at an 
end. Only have patience! The good 
Lord still .reigns, and no web can be so 
cunningly made, that He cannot unravel it. 
No wicked man escapes condemnation, 
and no innocent man lives, whose inno- 
cence shall not be made apparent at last!” 

The father and children were happy 
at heart, as though they didn’t doubt for 
an instant the prophecies of the mother. 
In the hope, that these might, one day, 
be fulfilled, they devised new, prudent 
plans for the future ; built castles — or to 
Speak more truly — only a small cottage in 
the air, and longed for nothing more, than 
that the good Lord might always pre- 
serve their glad hearts and firm faith, 
wherewith they could look with clear 
eyes into the future, when other dark 
clouds should threaten their earthly hea- 
ven and disturb the modest, good fortune, 
they now enjoyed, although they had 
lost so much. 


94 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

The father and mother devoted a few 
days to the minor details and secrets of 
the art of coloring, and vied with the 
children in rapid, and, at the same time, 
neat and skillful execution. Herr Ehr- 
lich expressed himself satisfied with the 
work, which was returned, and promised 
William still more, if he did not flag in 
his zeal. Some weeks, the money earned 
by the family exceeded four dollars, and 
if no great amount was made, still the 
small sum was sufficient to secure the 
most indispensable necessities of life. It 
is true, the mother was not able to pro- 
cure new clothing, William was obliged to 
wear his father’s old pilot-cloth coat in 
the middle of summer, and the father 
himself was obliged to fasten the uppers 
of his boots still more ingeniously, be- 
cause new soles or new boots were out of 
the question. But notwithstanding all 
this, in the house of the deposed copyist 
Miller, nothing was to be seen but happy 
faces. They held firm hold of faith and 
hope in God, — their hearts were often 


JOY IN CHILDREN. 95 

sad, but they never despaired ; and if 
Father Miller ever looked sad, the moth- 
er, with a glance towards Heaven, said, 
“The good Lord still reigns,” and then, 
the sadness disappeared from his coun- 
tenance, and, with a thankful smile, he 
pressed the hand of the comforting moth- 
er. They were poor, but still happy; 
for contentment maintained its sway in 
their hearts. 



CHAPTER VI. 


THE GRANDFATHER’S PORTRAIT. 

HE fact, that they could not pre- 
vent the sale of their dear little 
house, was the greatest, or more properly 
speaking, the only actual sorrow that 
troubled the thoughts of the family. They 
had all, even the mother herself, grown 
up in it, and every nook and corner in 
the house was near and dear to them; 
for there was no portion not connected 
with agreeable memories. They would 
have made the greatest sacrifices to re- 
tain that little piece of property. Father 
Miller had been to see the Privy-Coun- 
sellor Werthlos to beg indulgence and 
forbearance for a year or two longer ; but 
the wicked man, having nothing else in 
96 



THE GRANDFATHER’S PORTRAIT. 


97 


view, than revenge on the copyist, was 
inflexible. The severe struggle, which 
Father Miller had with himself, before 
he could resolve to ask the sympathy of 
his destroyer, had been undertaken in 
vain, and the mother was obliged to con- 
sole him, in order to transform the fa- 
ther’s ill humor, into his customary, quiet 
peacefulness and content. With the hope 
of neglecting nothing, that might avert 
the threatened disaster, Father Miller 
had gone around among all his acquain- 
tances at least ten times, to see whether 
he could not borrow the necessary sum 
of money; but his sad journeys had 
brought no favorable results. The time 
was drawing nearer and nearer, when 
they should be driven from their little 
house, and the eyes of all rested with 
secret, quiet sadness, on the four familiar 
walls, within which they had experi- 
enced so many incidents— both sad and 
happy, as the Lord had sent them. 

“ Now, children, ” said the father, one 
evening, when he had returned home, 
9 


9 8 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


“ that’s attended to. I have rented a 
residence for us, and to-morrow we will 
begin to get our little furniture and goods 
ready. ” 

“ Well, our trust is in God, ” said the 
mother, after a short silence, during 
which all tried to suppress their painful 
thoughts; “what can’t be cured must be 
endured with firmness and resignation. 
If many things shall be wanting us, es- 
pecially our little garden — why, as we 
have found pleasure in these, should we 
not bear some pain ? ” 

“ And what way shall we go, father?” 
asked William. 

“Right out through the door,” he re- 
plied. “And, mother, do not grieve so 
much about the garden; for this one will 
be compensated for by another belong- 
ing to the house. True, it must first be 
dug up, and then regularly laid out, be- 
cause the whole property is in a very 
much neglected condition. The little 
house, of which I am speaking, belongs 
to the merchant Hellwig, who has no 


THE GRANDFATHER’S PORTRAIT. 


99 

use for it, and rents it to me on that ac- 
count for a very small sum.” 

“Oh! I know it,” cried William. “It’s 
a short distance beyond Herr Ehrlich’s 
house, and, as often as I have passed by 
it, the window-shutters have always been 
closed. The little house is not beautiful, 
father, but it is very prettily located. It 
is in the midst of a green plat, mother, 
and there must be a very pretty view 
from the house.” 

“At any rate,” said the father, “the 
rent is low, and that is the main consid- 
eration. Herr Hellwig only asks twenty 
dollars a year, and we can raise that 
without very much trouble, if the good 
Lord will only preserve our health.” 

Much more was said about the little 
house, and William made many plans — 
how it could be arranged right neatly 
and comfortably without any expense, 
and solely by the work of his hands. 
The father and mother, being occupied 
with their own thoughts, at first listened 
only with half attention; bye and bye 


100 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


they took more interest in the plans, and 
finally joined in the discussion. At 
length some enthusiasm was excited, and 
every one began to feel some interest in 
the new house, and, when they retired 
for the night, sadness, on account of the 
loss of the home, which they had occu- 
pied so long, had not indeed disappeared, 
but it had been wonderfully mitigated. 

Early the next morning, every one 
was occupied with moving out and in. 
The father betook himself to the new 
house, in order to arrange furniture and 
other household affairs in suitable places, 
and the mother superintended the mov- 
ing from the old home. Anna was busi- 
ly employed. A laboring man removed 
the heavy pieces of furniture on a wheel- 
barrow, and William carried the light 
articles. Towards evening everything 
was done, and the father returned with 
William to take a last farewell of the 
house. They went once more through 
the garden and all the rooms. Their 
feelings were very sad, as they stood upon 


THE GRANDFATHER'S PORTRAIT. 


IOI 


the sill which they were about to cross 
for the last time, never more to return. 

The sun had half disappeared below 
the horizon; its last golden rays fell 
through the glass and shone on the walls 
of the sitting-room, on which the linger- 
ing parents were about turning their 
backs. A bright ray of sunlight shone 
clearly on a little picture, fastened high up 
against the wall, which had been over- 
looked in the removal of their effects. 

“The picture, father!” cried William. 
“ The portrait of our great-grandfather ! 
We must take that with us. No, indeed, 
that must not remain here.” 

The parents turned around at these 
words of William, and looked up at the 
picture, on which the sun still shone 
bright and clear. 

“Certainly, William, you are right,” 
said the father. “The old gentleman 
must not be left hanging there, although 
the frame is fastened to the wall. Only 
see, he looks at us, as is natural, full of 
indignation, because we forgot him. Bring 

9 * 


102 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


me quickly a chisel and hammer, Wil- 
liam, while I borrow a ladder from a 
neighbor.” 

Chisel, hammer and ladder were, in a 
few minutes procured, and the father 
climbed up to the old picture, whose frame 
he tried to loosen from the wall. But 
it was fastened very tightly, and, without 
rough treatment of the wall, the picture 
could not be removed. 

“This is very provoking,” said Father 
Miller, leaving his arm fall, while in 
doubt and hesitation he looked at the 
others. “It will certainly cost us 
half a dollar to make the wall good 
again, and we haven’t too much money 
on hand. Still my heart protests against 
leaving the picture, where it may perhaps 
be very soon daubed over by a rough 
hand with white-wash, if not entirely 
destroyed.” 

“No, no. Don’t leave it here, father,” 
entreated the children with one voice ; 
and even the thrifty mother thought it 
would be better to sacrifice twelve grosch- 


THE GRANDFATHER^ PORTRAIT. IO3 

en than the pretty picture — such an 
honorable, old family piece. 

“I think,” said she, “it must please 
the great-grandfather even now, that we 
should think so much of his memory. 
Take the picture down, husband, dear !” 

“Just as you wish it,” answered the 
father., and he went to work again. “ It 
would have pained me very much, if I 
had left the beautiful picture behind, on 
account of a few groschen.” 

With strong but careful hand, so as 
not to injure the frame of the picture, he 
chiseled and hammered at the wall, while 
the little pieces of stone and mortar fell 
at his feet. After a few minutes, the 
frame hung only loosely on the wall, 
when the chisel being placed behind the 
frame, the father took the picture out un- 
injured. 

“There, I have it,” he said, a cloud of 
dust flying out from behind the picture. 
“Take it from me, William, so that I 
can come down.” 

William sprang quickly up the steps of 


104 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


the ladder, seized the picture and brought 
it down with a careful hand, when an 
exclamation from his father, mother and 
sisters startled him. 

“ What’s the matter ?” he asked. 

“ There is a large hole in the wall, 
which the picture covered like a door,” 
replied the father. “Only see ! it is 
made of regular mason-work ; but what’s 
this ? ” 

He looked curiously in and extended 
his hand into the opening from which the 
dust had come. The next minute he 
brought out a piece of yellow paper, 
covered with writing faded by age. 

“ What have you there, father ? what 
is it?” asked mother and children with 
one voice. 

The father cast a short quick glance at 
the paper, and then plunged his hand 
again in the hole, from which he drew 
out a moderately large leather purse. 

“Children, this is a wonderful disco- 
very,” he said. “William, first put the 
picture aside where it will not be injured, 


9 



The Wonderful Discovery. 

Page 104. 


Father Miller. 
















■ * 



















































A 




































, ' • .. 


















































THE GRANDFATHER’S PORTRAIT. 


and then take this purse. It seems to 
me there are others also concealed in the 
hole.” 

We can imagine how quickly William 
obeyed, and with strained anxiety, the 
mother and the rest of the children gazed 
at the father and the hole. Every one 
was so full of expectation, that there was 
scarcely an exclamation of astonishment 
heard, as the father brought out, one by 
one, fifteen leather purses, all new and 
equal in size and shape to the first. 

“ That’s the last,” he said, as he hand- 
ed the fifteenth to William, a-nd then ex- 
amined the inside of the hole with his 
hand. “ But now let us see, what all this 
means. I hope this paper will give sa- 
tisfactory information about it. This 
much is certain, the purses are full of 
money; for one can plainly hear the 
pieces jingle.” Now come up the ques- 
tions : “ How much is there ? How did 

it get in the wall, and who owns it?” 
“Who but us, husband, dear ?” screamed 
Mother Miller in high glee. “We found 


106 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

it ! Found it in our house, and therefore, 
there can be no doubt as to the proper 
owner.” 

“That is still the question,” said Fath- 
er Miller, coming down the ladder, and 
walking slowly towards the window. 
“ This scrap of paper, written by our an- 
cestor’s hand, may possibly tell us some- 
thing very different, from that which we 
hope and wish about the money ? ” 

“ Why do you read it, then ? ” quickly 
cried Mother Miller. “Tear it to pieces, 
husband. ” 

“Are you serious?” asked Father Mil- 
ler, wrinkling his brow. “Are you in- 
deed serious, mother ?” 

Mother Miller was eager for a minute 
to snatch them from their sufferings; — a 
minute after she saw how unjust and sin- 
ful her advice was, and her face became 
quite scarlet. 

“Pardon me, father,” she said gently. 
“The scrap must be read, and, if the 
money is not our rightful property, it 


THE GRANDFATHER’S PORTRAIT. IO7 

stands to reason, that we must not keep 
it. ” 

“ Just so, my dear wife,” said Father 
Miller, and his brow became again serene, 
while he warmly pressed the mother’s 
hand. “ Honesty is best in the long run ! 
And now, since we are honestly inclined 
as to the destination of the little trea- 
sure which we have discovered, let us try 
to decipher these faded lines. If the 
money properly belongs to us, — we shall 
thank Heaven, from our very hearts ; be- 
cause the discovery has been made just 
at the right time; if it belongs to some 
other owner, the disappointment will be 
less painful, as we are prepared for it. ” 

Holding their breath, for so great was 
the anxiety of the mother and the chil- 
dren, they looked at the father, who 
raised the scrap of paper and placed him- 
self in the best light, so that he could de- 
cipher the almost obliterated writing. 
To the great joy of all, the ruddy eve- 
ning light was still bright enough, to per- 
mit the writing to be made out, and, with 


I08 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

quiet voice— only occasionally pausing 
when the writing was very obscure, the 
father read the following words : 

“I commend to God’s mercy, whosoever 
shall first read these lines. If they fall 
into the hands of my son, who is now far 
away in the field fighting against the 
Turks, or into the hands of his descen- 
dants, they may rejoice in the savings of 
their father. Should a strange hand dis- 
cover the niche, in which I deposit these 
lines, and should he be an upright, honest 
man, he will take pains to find out my 
proper descendants or heirs, and give 
them their rightful inheritance. If he will 
not do this, he will commit a theft, for 
which the Lord and his conscience will 
punish him.” 

At this passage, the father looked with 
an expressive glance at the mother, who 
was blushing again, and then continued 
to read. 

“I, Gotthold Ephraim Miller, Clerk to 
the Honourable Council of this city, de- 
posit my savings in this niche for the fol- 


THE GRANDFATHER’S PORTRAIT. 


IO9 


lowing reasons : The enemy is only 
seven miles from our city, and, it is ru- 
mored, that he will march hither to-mor- 
row for the purpose of plundering and 
burning, as is his wicked and sinful pur- 
pose. Therefore I will protect my hard- 
earned money from his wicked hands, in 
order that it may fall into the hands of 
those, to whom it belongs, according to 
human and divine laws. Another rea- 
son, impelling me to this plan of conceal- 
ment, is, that I am an old man, and must 
be ready whenever the Lord may call me. 
In these troublous times, when the ene- 
my threatens us, I would consign my 
savings to other hands; but they would 
be no safer there than in my own. There- 
fore I determine to conceal them in this 
safe place, so that Heaven may care, that 
they fall into proper hands. Thus I 
commit the whole to the protection of 
Heaven, and wish, from my whole heart, 
that my economy may be blessed to my 
dear son or his descendants. May the 

Lord keep you all under his gracious pro- 
10 


IIO 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


tection! Written September the fifteenth, 
Anno Domini 1648. Gotthold Ephraim 
Miller, City-Clerk. ” 

“Oh father, father!” cried the mother, 
as she seized her husband in her arms, 
— “see, the good Lord still reigns. He 
brings to light hidden treasures, and the 
blessing of our ancestor is accomplished 
in us! What unhoped-for, what great? 
surprising good fortune 1” 

“Yes, indeed, a great and unhoped for 
good fortune,” said Father Miller, with 
much feeling, while the children, highly 
delighted, hurrahed for the worthy an- 
cestor, who had looked out so carefully 
and providentially for the future. “Gott- 
hold Ephraim Miller was our ancestor, 
and there is no doubt but that the trea- 
sure is mine, as it rightly belongs to his 
only surviving descendant. How good it 
is, mother, thau we read the paper ! Now, 
with a good conscience and a light heart, 
we can rejoice over our good fortune, but 
if we had not acted honestly in the mat- 
ter, a sting of remorse would have always 


THE GRANDFATHER’S PORTRAIT. 


1 1 I 


troubled our consciences. ‘ Honesty is the 
best in the long run/ that is now very 
plainly shown. And, children, don’t for- 
get this proverb as long as God permits 
you to live. Let us all thank the Lord, 
who, as by a miracle, has prepared such 
great joy for our hearts 1” 

“But, must we then,” said Anna, after 
some moments of quiet composure, “leave 
our dear little home ? Oh how lovely it 
would be, if we could only sit and play 
and chat under the elder-bushes ! what 
pleasure !” 

“Let us see, if the little treasure is suffi- 
cient to secure us its possession,” said the 
father. “There is still light enough to 
count the money, and we must not delay. 
Open the purses, William !” 

That was an order needing no repeti- 
tion. The boy quickly untied the cords 
that fastened the purses, and poured the 
contents on the window sill. Father and 
mother counted and it was found that 
each purse contained exactly one hun- 


112 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


dred dollars, so that the whole amount 
was fifteen hundred dollars. 

“Now, children/’ said the father, high- 
ly delighted, “there are five hundred 
more than we require. We can have our 
wish to keep the dear little house, and 
besides accomplish another, which is par- 
ticularly near your mother’s heart and 
mine, my dear William. You guess what 
I mean ; for the pure joy flashes in your 
eye.” 

“Yes, I do indeed guess what you 
mean,” cried William, throwing himself 
on his father’s breast, whilst his mother 
looked down on him with a loving smile, 
“now you will permit me to remain 
faithful to my books and studies.” 

“ Yes, I mean that, and, God helping 
us, it shall be so,” replied the father, kiss- 
ing the forehead of his son glowing with 
delight. 

“But have you time yet, husband, 
dear, to take up the bond,” asked the 
mother somewhat concerned, as it oc- 
curred to her that the treasure might 


THE GRANDFATHER’S PORTRAIT. II3 

have indeed been discovered too late? 
“ Cannot the Privy-Counsellor compel 
you to give up the house ?” 

“No, mother, he cannot,” replied the 
father. “ There is fortunately both law 
and justice in this country, and if I go 
to our persecutor and enemy to-morrow 
morning and pay him the thousand dol- 
lars due, all his efforts will be in vain. 
He must hand me the bond, whether he 
likes it or dislikes it. To-morrow noon 
it would be too late ; for by ten o'clock 
our little house would be adjudged his 
property by law.” 

“Then God be thanked, that He has 
brought the wicked designs of the bad 
man to shame in good time,” said the 
mother, with full heart; and the father 
with the children heartily united in the 
pious exclamation. It was now resolved, 
that they would spend the coming night 
in the rented house, because the bedding 
and all the household furniture had been 
carried there. The next day'they would 
move back again to the dear, old, fami- 


I 14 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

liar house, and the great-grandfather’s 
picture should be again walled into its 
niche in lasting memory of the same. 
The money was placed in the purses ; 
and, laden with this treasure, the happy 
family at length left the house, but with 
very different feelings from those, which 
had filled them with dread on the morn- 
ing of the same day. All went to bed 
light of heart, and, with grateful spirits, 
returned thanks to God before sleeping. 
Their slumbers were sweet, and pleasant 
dreams delighted them. 

But fresh, heavy, lowering storms again 
arose above the horizon of their happi- 
ness, of which no one had the slightest 
anticipation; a still severer and harder 
blow was to fall upon the happy ones, 
to bear which would make all their faith 
in the justice and mercy of God neces- 
sary. We shall see how Father Miller 
and his family stood this test, and 
whether they preserved their faith when 
fresh sufferings happened to them, re- 
maining mindful of the saying, which 


THE GRANDFATHER’S PORTRAIT. 1 1 5 

the mother was accustomed to quote so 
cheerily : “ The good Lord still reigns/’ 

in which there was expressed so much 
unshaken trust in the grace and parental 
love of the Everlasting Father. 



CHAPTER VII. 


THE ROBBERY. 



HE first rays of the morning’s sun 
had scarcely reached the little win- 
dows of the house, under whose 
roof Father Miller and his family had 
rested during the previous night, when 
everything was in motion within its nar- 
row limits. The longing to return to the 
old familiar walls was so strong in the 
breasts of all, that they left their beds 
very early in the morning, and made pre- 
parations to repeat without delay their 
scarcely finished moving. Father, moth- 
er and children, lent a busy hand and a 
glad heart to the work; the laboring 
man, who had assisted the previous day, 
was again called upon to help ; and when 

Father Miller seized his hat and cane, 

1 1 6 


THE ROBBERY. 


IJ 7 

about nine o’clock, to take the thousand 
dollars to the Privy-Counsellor Werthlos, 
the transfer of the furniture to the old 
house had been really half completed. 

“Now, children/’ said the father, as he 
was leaving, “ only work very diligently 
until I return. I will not remain long 
away, and if I get back, as I hope, in 
good time, we may perhaps eat our din- 
ner in the old house.” 

All promised not to be idle; and, with 
light heart but heavy pocket, Father 
Miller set out on his road to the Privy- 
Counsellor’s. His name was sent in, and 
being admitted, he found himself in a 
few seconds opposite his enemy and per- 
secutor. 

“ If you think,” began the Privy-Coun- 
sellor, with harsh voice and lowering 
brow, “'if you think to succeed, by beg- 
ging and whining, in preventing me from 
sending you out of your house, then you 
are mistaken. You can spare yourself 
any talking — you will be obliged to talk 
in a quarter of an hour before the Court, 


1 1 8 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

and you will hear there that you must 
move to-day.” 

“That might be the case, Herr Privy- 
Counsellor, if something had not taken 
place, which has made removal unneces- 
sary,” quietly replied Father Miller. “I 
have not come to implore your mercy ; 
for I very well know, that would be use- 
less — no, I come to demand my bond — 
in exchange for a thousand dollars cash, 
which I herewith hand you in full pay- 
ment of my debt.” 

With these words Father Miller drew 
the heavy purses of money from his 
pocket, and laid them, one after the 
other, on the table before the eyes of the 
Privy-Counsellor. Then he opened them, 
took out the solid dollars, arranged them 
in proper order, and said, looking with a 
glad heart and bright eyes at the trea- 
sure : “Here, Herr Privy-Counsellor, is 
the money, and now I respectfully de- 
mand the bond.” 

What thoughts passed through the 
mind of the Privy-Counsellor during the 


THE ROBBERY. 


1 1 9 

counting of the money, no one can say ; 
for he never communicated them to any 
one. Had a person closely observed him 
at this time, he might have conjectured 
many things from the changing play of 
his features. At first, he seemed to ex- 
perience the greatest rage, that the 
object of his hatred should have escaped 
his thirst for revenge and its consequen- 
ces. His face by turns became yellow, 
brown and green with vexation. His 
eyes flashed so fiercely and cast such 
piercing glances at Father Miller, who 
suspected nothing, as though he wished 
to pierce him through. But suddenly the 
expression of rage disappeared from his 
countenance, making way for an expres- 
sion of malicious wicked joy. The wry 
mouth softened to a hypocritical smile, 
and the wrinkles on his forehead became 
smooth. He gazed maliciously at the 
honest copyist, and said, clapping him 
with hypocritical friendliness on the 
shoulders : 

“ Ah ha ! I see you must be a right 


120 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


lionest fellow, since you have found some 
one, who has loaned you the money. 
Who is it that has dared to trust so 
large a sum of money to one in your con- 
dition ?” 

“No one has loaned it to me/’ dryly 
answered Father Miller. “My blessed 
great-grandfather gave it to me.” 

“ But tell me, how did that happen ?” 
asked the Privy-Counsellor, quite dumb- 
founded, and with a stupid, confused 
laugh. 

Father Miller, having no reason to con- 
ceal the history, faithfully narrated the 
fortunate occurrence, that so unexpected- 
ly and happily assisted him in his need, 
and the Privy-Counsellor listened to him 
with a peculiar smile. 

“And do you think, that I am so stu- 
pid as to believe all this ?” he at length 
asked, and his gray eyes flashed hatred. 
“Go away! A good friend somewhere 
has helped you in your need; he does 
not wish to be named ; and now you 
manufacture a story for the people, 


THE ROBBERY. 


1 21 


which sounds altogether too wonderful to 
secure credence anywhere.” 

“Herr Privy-Counsellor,” said Father 
Miller earnestly, looking the malicious 
man so directly and firmly in the eyes 
that he was obliged to close them for 
shame. “I thought you knew better, 
whether I was an honest man or not. 
You have found out already, that old 
Miller will have nothing to do with lies 
or rascally tricks. Moreover, you can 
believe just as much as you please, only 
hand me over the bond. Our business 
is done ; and, for the future, I wish to 
have nothing to do with you.” 

The Privy-Counsellor swallowed the 
bitter pill, that Father Miller gave him 
to taste in silence, and only a very acute 
observer could have detected how angry 
he was. He took the bond out of his 
pocket-book, handed it to Father Miller, 
and hypocritically wished him happiness 
with his opportunely-discovered treasure. 
Father Miller wished to get away as rap- 
idly as possible ; but the Privy-Counsel- 
11 


122 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


lor still held him back and asked him, 
apparently in a spirit of sympathy, a host 
of questions, which he could not help 
answering without being discourteous. 
Still he was right glad, when this won- 
derful examination at length ceased, and 
then, haying placed the bond carefully in 
his pocket, and made a slight bow to the 
Privy-Counsellor, commending himself to 
his favorable recollection, he hurried 
quickly off, as he had promised, to help 
his family in their removal from the new, 
to the dear old house. 

“Yes, indeed I shall recollect you !” 
muttered the Privy-Counsellor with scorn- 
ful laugh and eyes flashing with malice, 
as the door into the court closed behind 
the old copyist. “You will be satisfied 
soon, that I do not forget you, and you 
will feel my hand on your head sooner 
than you think. Only have patience, 
you worm, who dares to turn your sting 
against me ? I cannot eject you from the 
house, but I can show you another house, 
which will be worse for you than if you 


THE ROBBERY. 


I2 3 


slept under the open sky with nothing 
under you but the cold ground, nothing 
over you but the fleeting clouds.’’ 

The Privy-Counsellor walked a while, 
in deep reflection, up and down his cham- 
ber, rubbed his hands with real joy from 
time to time, twisted his mouth into a 
wicked, hypocritical smile, muttering 
more than once between his teeth : 
“That will do ! that will do finely ! No- 
thing could be more welcome to me than 
the treasure which the fellow has found, 
and about which he seemed so much re- 
joiced. That will divert all suspicion 
from me, and it shall fall upon him. I 
will take special care ol that. Patience 
— only patience for a few days, and 
everything shall be done. I am safe, 
and my revenge shall be satisfied. But I 
shall not delay a minute in laying my 
plans.” 

He rang a bell, and a servant entered 
the room, to whom he gave an order. 
The servant hurried away, returning in 
a quarter of an hour with a man, whose 


124 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

exterior was by no means prepossessing. 
His clothes showed that he must be a 
beggar, while the lineaments of his wan, 
dark countenance, his crafty look showed 
plainly that there beat under his ragged 
coat, no innocent heart. 

“Daniel,” said the Privy-Counsellor to 
him, after carefully closing the door to 
prevent observation from any one with- 
out, “ Daniel, are you satisfied with the 
reward you received last night ?” 

The fellow grinned and nodded his 
head. “Eighteen hundred dollars make 
a pretty profit,” said he. “When you 
have any little business on hand, you can 
count on Daniel.” 

“Well, that’s right,” replied the Privy- 
Counsellor. “I have just been thinking 
about something else, and have sent for 
you on that account. I know a little 
business, about which there is no risk, 
and if it succeeds, you can count on 
several hundred dollars. Would you 
like it?” 

“Would I?” asked the man with a 


THE ROBBERY. 


125 


wicked laugh. “Only out with it. The 
business will be good if it turns out that 
way.” 

The Privy-Counsellor took the fellow 
into the corner of the room, furthest re- 
moved from the door, and whispered a 
few words in his ear. The man listened 
patiently, nodded his head several times, 
and then said : “The thing is arranged. 
You will hear from me early in the 
morning, and then — ?” 

“You will receive two hundred dollars 
in cash from me.” 

“Just so ! You are the kind of man 
to deal with. Little danger and big re- 
ward ! — Daniel would go through fire for 
you, sir !” 

The Privy-Counsellor answered only 
with a condescending smile ; then hand- 
ed the man a package of papers, that he 
had taken out of a chest fastened with 
six locks, and opened the door of the 
room. The fellow put the papers away, 
and, after he had been warned to be pru- 
dent and careful, went off. 

11* 


1 26 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


“Now the sword hangs over your 
head,” muttered the Privy-Counsellor 
after the fellow; whom he meant, we shall 
presently see. 

Twelve o’clock at night of the same 
day having arrived, by the feeble light of 
the moon, which only as a small crescent 
shone in the heavens, a man might have 
been seen sneaking around the house, 
under whose roof Father Miller and his 
family lay in deep and peaceful slumber. 
All were exhausted by the labors and 
exertions of the past day, and their sleep 
on that account was so sound, that the 
roaring thunder of a storm could hardly 
have awakened them. The man, just 
mentioned, tried the closed window-shut- 
ters of the house gently, and uttered a ter- 
rible curse, in a low tone of voice, when 
he found that none of them would yield 
to the pressure of his hand. He then 
approached the door, and tried the latch. 
The door was also fastened. 

“It will all be of no account,” he mut- 


THE ROBBERY. 1 27 

tered between his teeth, “if it should be 
bolted on the inside. Let me try. ” 

He reached into the pocket of his torn 
coat, and took out a bunch of picklocks, 
whose jingling he suppressed with some 
skill; and tried one after another in the 
key-hole. No one for a while opened the 
lock — but at length, after the impatient 
fellow had uttered some low curses, the 
lock creaked and the door gave way. 

“Ah, now its right, ” said he, and took 
a small dark lantern from his pocket, 
which he lighted with a match. Then 
he pushed down the slide of the lantern, 
so that scarcely a ray of light could stream 
from it, took off his shoes, and left them 
standing outside of the door, and sneaked 
into the house. His step was as light as 
a cat’s; the cracking of a grain of sand 
under his feet could hardly be heard. 

Having reached the hall-floor, he opened 
the slide of the lantern a little, so that 
light enough might be produced to show 
him the door of the sitting-room. This 
he opened. It creaked on its hinges ; but 


128 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


he gave it a sudden push in order to open 
it wide enough so that he could slip into 
the room and then — he paused, bending 
his head forward and listening attentive- 
ly. The creaking of the door might have 
possibly awakened one of the sleepers in 
the house ! But no ! — one, two, three 
minutes elapse, all is quiet, so quiet and 
peaceful that the ticking of the wall-clock 
was heard distinctly. Now he stepped 
over the door-sill, entered and threw the 
light of his lamp around. No one was in 
the room, and the door, leading to the 
chamber in which Father Miller slept, 
was closed. 

“All right,” muttered the house-break- 
er, and twisted his mouth into a slight, 
scarcely perceptible laugh. “Now the 
job will soon be done.” 

Without any hesitation, he pulled up 
the slide of his lantern, so that all the 
light might fall upon the different articles 
in the room and the whole extent of its 
walls. There, was the picture of the an- 
cestor of our honest copyist again walled 


THE ROBBERY. 


129 


in, and, with earnest gaze, the eye of the 
long-deceased man seemed to look down 
on the burglar. 

“Oh you can’t do me any harm,” he 
whispered, and laughed again. Then, af- 
ter having examined everything careful- 
ly, he said : “Well! all is well! The 
mortar is yet fresh and wet and the pic- 
ture can be loosened on that account 
without much noise. The two hundred 
dollars are easily made.” 

He placed a table against the wall, 
stood on it, and with the help of a chisel, 
took down the picture from the niche 
without any noise, placed a handful of 
papers in the hole, and then put the 
picture back again in front of the open- 
ing. With a practised hand he pressed 
the frame into the fresh mortar, so that 
the keenest eye could not detect, that the 
picture had been removed, came down 
from the table, placed it in its proper po- 
sition, carefully collected the little pieces 
of mortar that had dropped on the floor, 
put them in his pocket, took the lantern 


I3O STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

again into his hand, and sneaked out of 
the room, closing the door so carefully, 
that the sound of the latch could scarce- 
ly be heard. Then he left the house, 
closed the front door, fastened it with the 
same picklock that had answered for 
opening it, put his shoes on again, and, 
after carefully extinguishing the light of 
his lantern, went away. 

“ That was grandly done ! ” he said, 
and laughed aloud, when there was no 
further fear of discovery. “You will be 
satisfied with me, Herr Privy-Counsellor, 
and the two hundred dollars shall be 
mine. It is a nice business to be a ras- 
cal. If it would only turn out always 
like yesterday and to-day.” 

He turned around the corner of the 
next house, made his way through a nar- 
row, dark street, and the sound of his 
footsteps was lost in the distance. All 
was quiet in the good town. The watch- 
men only blew their horns and cried 
the hours here and there ; no one had 
seen the bold scoundrel, who had secretly 


THE ROBBERY. 


I 3 I 

entered Father Miller’s house, and that 
not to steal anything, but to leave some- 
thing there. 

What was his object, or rather that 
of the Privy-Counsellor? 




CHAPTER VIII. 

THE IMPRISONMENT. 

“ HH ATHER,” cried William, as he 
0 BIO entered the room quite excited 
from school, the next day. “ On- 
ly think Herr Hartmann, the Notary, 
was robbed last night or the night before. 
As he was not home yesterday, but was 
about on business, the burglary was not 
noticed until to-day. The whole city is 
full of it. Herr Hartmann, the people 
say, was beside himself, not so much on 
account of the money stolen, although 
the amount was more than a thousand 
dollars, but more on account of the ab- 
straction of some very important papers, 
whose loss cannot be repaired, or com- 
pensated for in money.” 

“ What are you saying ?” cried Father 
132 


THE IMPRISONMENT. 


J 33 


Miller, quite shocked. “ Papers have been 
stolen ! that is not possible. What would 
sharpers and rascals do with them ? Have 
you heard this correctly, William ?” 

“ Yes, yes! perfectly correctly, father! 
The people indeed spoke of a certain 
document, which did not belong to Herr 
Hartmann, but to a young Countess, 
whose name I have forgotten. The poor 
Countess was quite beside herself with 
fright and distress ; for the people say, if 
she does not recover the document, she 
will lose a law-suit, and that the loss of 
her whole fortune hangs on its unfavor- 
able termination. Yes, father, that is ex- 
actly as I heard it.” 

“ The document,” muttered the father, 
and a horrible suspicion arose, “the docu- 
ment, is it the Countess Kronberg’s ?” 

“Yes, yes; Kronberg, father,” cried 
William. “Kronberg, that’s the name the 
people said ! Exactly.” 

“Indeed! Can it be, that the Privy- 
Counsellor would carry his baseness so 


12 


134 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

far as to turn burglar and thief? No, 
that cannot be possible.” 

“ Broken into and stolen, — that is per- 
fectly certain,” repeated William. “ And 
the talk was about the Countess Kron- 
berg’s document, that’s also certain. But 
no one knows who did it, and suspicion 
rests on no one.” 

“I must go, see and ascertain for my- 
self,” said Father Miller resolutely, and 
seized his hat and stick. “If mother re- 
turns, William, and it won’t be long, be- 
cause she has only gone to market, tell 
her what you have heard, and ask her to 
think over it, because I must speak to 
her about it. Don’t forget, my boy, do 
you hear ?” 

William promised, and Father Miller 
betook himself with quick steps to Herr 
Hartmann’s office. Herr Hartmann was 
not in ; he had gone to the Police office, 
said one of the clerks. But this clerk 
fully confirmed the report which William 
had brought home, and he showed Father 
Miller the very window through which 


THE IMPRISONMENT. I35 

the thieves had entered after breaking it ; 
also the iron chest that had been broken 
open, and the cupboard from which the 
important papers had been taken. Al- 
most all the papers in the cupboard had 
disappeared, and only a lot of old books, 
which lay on the lower shelves, had been 
left untouched. Father Miller shook his 
head in silence. Whoever had done the 
deed must have been perfectly acquaint- 
ed with the arrangements of Herr Hart- 
mann’s office — that was certain. Except 
the cupboard in question, in which Herr 
Hartmann was accustomed to keep his 
most important papers, and the money- 
chest, no injury had been done to any 
other piece of furniture, to no other desk 
or cupboard. This circumstance shook 
his suspicion about the Privy-Counsellor 
Werthlos not a little. For how could he 
have acquired such exact knowledge of 
the office-arrangements ? Besides, how 
explain the common theft of money ? 
Father Miller knew very well, that the 
Privy-Counsellor Werthlos had large pos- 


I36 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

sessions, and if he attributed to him the 
baseness of abstracting the document on 
which so much depended, he could not 
suspect that he would have broken open 
the strong iron chest for the sake of a 
small sum of money. The document 
alone could have had attractions for 
him. If he had succeeded in securing 
this, the object would be attained that 
might induce him to commit the burg- 
lary. Once having it in his possession, it 
would have been a piece of foolhardiness 
to risk detection by delaying with the 
chest, to open which required more 
strength and longer time than the open- 
ing and robbing of the cupboard. 

Father Miller hesitated, doubted and 
was, therefore, undecided what he should 
do in these circumstances. On the one 
hand, it seemed to be his duty at least 
to mention to Herr Hartmann the ground 
of suspicion, which he thought existed 
against the Privy-Counsellor ; and on the 
other hand, it seemed perilous and impru- 
dent to suspect a man, who held a high 



Delivery of the King’s Commission. 

Page 173. 


Father Miller 















* 














* 

m , 

• 



« 











• 




































































v 




























THE IMPRISONMENT. 


m 


State-office and who could not possibly 
undertake a pitiful robbery of money. 
He determined at last to consult over the 
matter with his wise and prudent wife, 
and accordingly betook himself home. 

In a few words he had laid the state 
of affairs before the mother, who had re- 
turned in the meantime from market, 
and had asked her : What was to be 
done ? 

The mother rested her head upon her 
hands, and sat for a long while in earnest, 
silent reflection. 

“ Listen, husband, dear,” she said at 
last, “ suppose the Privy-Counsellor had 
broken open the chest for the purpose of 
perhaps bringing suspicion on a common 
sharper or rascal ? If you consider him 
once capable of a dishonest act, let it be 
understood, that he would perpetrate it 
with all possible forethought 1” 

“Indeed, dear wife, I believe that you 
have struck the nail just on the head,” 
said Father Miller quickly. “Now see, 
I could have hardly believed, that you 
12 * 


I38 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


would have pointed me out the right way 
so clearly. If I cannot follow it and 
declare the Privy-Counsellor is the thief ; 
still my suspicion in its full force points 
towards him, and if I must tell the truth, 
I can say — I believe that the Privy-Coun- 
sellor is the thief. It was of great im- 
portance to him to possess the document 
in question, as you saw from my corres- 
pondence with him, and his promises and 
bribes. He, who is capable of tempting 
an honest man by such baits, from the 
straight forward way, is also capable of 
doing still worse. But with all this, 
what’s to be done ?” 

“Well, husband, dear, that is also 
plain,” replied the mother. “ Herr Hart- 
mann must be informed of your suspi- 
cions, and then it must be left to him, 
what steps he will take against the sus- 
pected thief. That is, in my opinion, 
your proper duty.” 

“ But will they not believe, that I do 
this only through hatred of the Privy- 
Counsellor ?” asked Father Miller. 


THE IMPRISONMENT. 1 39 

“ Probably yes, probably no,” replied 
the mother. At any rate, a conscience 
void of offence is of more importance 
than the people’s opinion, and I think, 
if you can answer for your actions before 
the good Lord, you can also do it before 
men.” 

“ Well said,” cried Father Miller firm- 
ly. “Fiat justitia et per eat mundus, said 
the Latins, which means, in our words, 
justice must have its course even if the 
world should perish. If my suspicion is 
unfounded, may God forgive me ; but I 
shall not reproach myself, if I follow the 
voice of my conscience and tell Herr 
Hartmann all I know and suspect.” 

The hour of twelve having arrived, 
they seated themselves at the table ; but 
Father Miller scarcely allowed himself 
time to eat his potato-soup, before he was 
on his way to Herr Hartmann, whom he 
hoped to find at home about this time. 
He was admitted, and, although Herr 
Hartmann received him very coolly and 
with repulsive contemptuousness, he com- 


140 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

municated what seemed to him the truth 
according to his view of the subject. The 
notary listened quietly to his statement 
without interrupting him. When Father 
Miller had at length finished, he hoped % 
to hear at least an expression of thanks 
from the man, who had deprived him of 
his support through wholly false suspi- 
cion. But Herr Hartmann seemed to har- 
bor very different feelings from those of 
thankfulness in his heart. He looked 
with a penetrating glance at his former 
copyist, and coldly said : “It is a bold 
thing for you to suspect a gentleman, 
who enjoys universal respect. However, 
we will see. I promise you at least, that 
you shall receive information from me as 
soon as I get more light on the subject !” 

Father Miller, who meant nothing but 
that which was honorable, felt himself 
deeply hurt by this harsh and repulsive 
conduct of his former employer. With- 
out saying another word, he grasped his 
hat and came away. He had scarcely 
left the room, when a side door opened, 


THE IMPRISONMENT. 


I 4 I 

and the Privy-Counsellor Wertlilos en- 
tered Herr Hartmann’s room. 

“Did you hear him?” asked Herr Hart- 
mann. 

“Every word!” was the answer given 
with a hypocritical smile. 

“Well, then, you know that my opinion 
is fully made up about the rascal,” said 
the Notary. “His wicked conscience has 
driven him here with the view of clearing 
himself from guilt. I no longer doubt, 
that he committed the burglary. The 
thousand dollars that he paid you yester- 
day, his perfect knowledge of the office, 
the cupboard not broken open but its lock 
picked, — everything so plainly speaks 
against him, that one need not doubt nor 
even hesitate. He stole the money to 
save himself from beggary, and he took 
the papers in order to have revenge for 
his dismissal from service. The whole 
is as clear as sunlight.” 

“Clear as sunlight!” added the Privy- 
Counsellor. “His letter to me, offering 
to deliver a document which does not ex- 


142 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


ist, or is a counterfeit, clearly shows that 
the fellow is a scamp.” 

“ There you are mistaken, Herr Privy- 
Counsellor/’ rejoined the Notary. “ The 
document does exist, is genuine, and will 
be found again.” 

“We shall see, we shall see!” said the 
Privy-Counsellor, while a malicious grin 
distended his lips. “What are you going 
to do with Miller, the old sinner?” 

“ That I must consider. I would .like to 
spare him on account of his past diligent 
and strictly honest service ; still I must 
take steps at least to recover the docu- 
ment.” 

“Just so,” said the Privy-Counsellor; 
“ to spare such sharpers and rascals would 
be a sin against God and the world.” 

After this conversation both left the 
room, and the Privy-Counsellor took his 
departure in an unusually good humor. 
When in the street he rubbed his hands 
together, laughed to himself and muttered 
sundry unintelligible words, so that the 


THE IMPRISONMENT. 


H3 • 


people who met him stopped and looked 
after him in perfect amazement. 

On the evening of the same day, that 
Father Miller had been so much hurt at 
the unkind and repulsive reception given 
him by his former employer, he sat quite 
contented and happy amid his family; 
for after he had communicated the extent 
of his mortification to his excellent wife, 
the last traces of its effects had disap- 
peared from his breast. He knew that 
he had only done his duty. What 
troubled him so much had been the 
thanklessness he had received as a reward. 
His reward, however, properly consisted 
in a pure, unspotted conscience, and 
hence, without any bitter reflections, he 
gave himself up to the comforting conver- 
sation of his family. 

During this conversation, it might have 
been about ten o’clock at night, their 
pleasure was suddenly brought to an end. 
There was a knock at the front door, and 
a loud voice in the street demanded that 
it should be immediately opened. 


144 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

“That is certainly a late and. noisy 
visitor/’ said Father Miller. “Go out, 
William, and open the door.” 

William laid down the brush that he 
had been diligently using, all the evening, 
and, in three leaps was at the front door, 
which he opened without delay. Immedi- 
ately four or five soldiers of police fully- 
armed entered, hurried quickly by Wil- 
liam into the room, two of them stationing 
themselves at the door, letting their arms 
come to an order with a crash on the 
floor, while the others with an officer 
hurried to Father Miller. 

“ What does this mean?” said the latter, 
less frightened than astonished, while the 
mother and the children sat ar&und with 
pale faces. “ How comes it, sir, that you 
break into this house and disturb the 
peace of a quiet family ? ” 

“ That you will soon find out ! ” replied 
the officer of the Police harshly. “You 
are my prisoner, and must not move. 
The house is surrounded by my men, and 


THE IMPRISONMENT. 


145 


any attempt at escape will be in vain, and 
will only increase your punishment.” 

“ But, of what am I accused ? ” asked 
Father Miller, while the children wept 
bitterly and the mother trembling em- 
braced her husband. “What have I 
done ? Who dares accuse me of crime ?” 

“ Peace,” commanded the officer. “ It 
will soon appear, whether you are as 
innocent as you seem.” And turning to 
his men he said. “ Search the house 
thoroughly ! Let no corner escape exam- 
ination.” 

While all awaited in fearful .anxiety 
the issue of this singular occurrence, the 
soldiers obeyed the order of the officer, 
and c©uld be heard going through every 
part of the house. In a quarter of an 
hour they returned with the report, that 
they had discovered nothing suspicious. 

“Well then,” said the officer/“it only 
remains to search this room. Will you 
tell me voluntarily,” said he to Father 
Miller, “ where you have concealed your 
13 


146 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


plunder, or shall I examine everything 
before your eyes ?” 

“ Plunder? Conceal? What do you mean 
by these words ?” asked Father Miller in 
a rage. “Do you look upon me — Miller, 
the old copyist — as a thief and a rascal ? 
Mother, quick give him the keys to all 
the cupboards and drawers ! Let the 
gentlemen do as they like ; for in fact, 
as appearances show, might here goes be- 
fore right. I have already undergone 
sorrow that was partly a most perfect sa- 
tisfaction. Fear not, dear wife. We are 
innocent, and punishment will fall upon 
him, who has calumniated us and brought 
us under suspicion. Peace, wife, peace. 
There is no reason here for shedding 
tears. ,, 

“Yes, indeed, you are right,” answered 
the wife 4 drying her eyes. 

With pale but peaceful countenance 
she handed the keys to the officer, who 
immediately opened all the chests and 
cases of the drawers and examined their 
contents. Of course, he found nothing 


THE IMPRISONMENT. 147 

suspicious, and his manner became some- 
what more polite than it had been. 

“ The examination furnished nothing,” 
he said. “ Still it gives me pain that I 
must arrest you and take you to prison. 
My orders are very definite. Follow us 
then without resistance, so that we need 
not be compelled to employ force. For- 
ward march, but halt ! What’s this ? 
A picture fastened in the wall — the mor- 
tar yet fresh — this may be the place of 
concealment, and we be yet deceived.” 

“ Convince yourself of the groundless- 
ness of your suspicion,” said Father Mil- 
ler, proud in the consciousness of his in- 
nocence. 

The officer looked sharply at him, 
seemed to hesitate, but ordered his men 
to take the picture down. In a moment 
it was done, and a general shriek pro- 
ceeded from the whole party, when the 
soldier of police took out of the niche 
a package of the miscellaneous papers 
sought for, and handed them to his com- 
manding officer. The latter looked rap- 


1 48 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


idly over them, and then cast a look of 
contempt at Father Miller. 

“ Concealment will help you no longer,” 
said he sternly ; “the burglar is dis- 
covered. Bind him ; all indulgence is at 
an end.” 

“ Great Heavens ! how did the papers 
get there ?” shrieked Mother Miller, pale 
and horror-stricken. 

“ Besides the wicked men, who have 
done the deed, God alone knows,” replied 
Father Miller, with an expression of 
agony, although he had not lost his self- 
control. “ Be quiet, mother ! Be quiet, 
dear children !” he continued, turning to 
his family. “ The good Lord still reigns ! 
He knows that I am innocent ! He will 
find a way to show my innocence to the 
world ! Be comforted ! With peaceful 
conscience I now go to prison; with a joy- 
ous heart I shall leave it again. Do not 
weep, but compose yourselves. Submit 
to that which is inevitable, and do not 
forget your mother’s comforting proverb : 
“The good Lord still reigns.” 


THE IMPRISONMENT. 


149 


Weeping, sobbing and wringing their 
hands, the mother and children crowded 
around the father, yvho, with pale but 
peaceful countenance, gave them his 
blessing, and embraced and kissed them 
for the last time. Then he voluntarily 
allowed himself to be bound by the offi- 
cers of the Law, and followed them with 
a firm step to prison, only casting back 
on his family a last look of heartfelt love. 
The mother and children would have fol- 
lowed him, but the officer sternly forbade 
them, and they were obliged to return 
with heavy hearts. No sleep visited their 
eyelids that night ; the only support they 
could lean upon was the God of heaven ; 
the only consolation, the only comfort 
they could find lay in reliance on Him, 
from whose hands, love and affection 
stream down upon the children of men. 

“The good Lord still reigns !” whispered 
the mother, and with folded hands the 
children repeated : “ The good Lord still 
reigns — He will be our Father !” 


13* 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE LORD WILL BRING WICKEDNESS TO LIGHT. 

OURTEEN days had elapsed, and 
Father Miller still pined in pris- 
on ; still no hope was found, that 
his innocence would be made manifest. 
The plan for his destruction had been so 
artfully laid, that any rescue was hardly 
possible. Everything was against him ! 
the papers found concealed in the niche 
behind the picture, which Herr Hart- 
mann had recognized as being a portion 
of those stolen from him ; the thousand 
dollars to whose receipt the Privy-Coun- 
sellor Werthlos testified; the letter, writ- 
ten by Father Miller to the latter with 
the view of testing the Privy-Counsellor’s 
honesty. Of what avail were all protes- 
tations of his innocence; of what avail 
150 



WICKEDNESS BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 1 5 1 


his straightforward statement of every- 
thing that had occurred between him, the 
Privy-Counsellor and Herr Hartmann. 
The Judge as well as all the citizens of 
the place were convinced of Father Mil- 
ler's guilt, and everybody considered him 
a bold scoundrel, who only sought, by 
consistent lying, to cover up his own 
misdeeds with obscurity. 

No pen can describe, no words can 
express what Mother Miller and the chil- 
dren suffered in the meantime. It was 
a miracle, that they were not laid out on 
beds of sickness from their mental suffer- 
ings. They found comfort and assistance 
nowhere. All their former friends and 
acquaintances treated them with repell- 
ing, deeply-marked contempt, so that 
without their firm reliance on God, they 
would have been the most unhappy be- 
ings on earth. 

One day they learned accidentally, 
that on the coming morning, judgment 
would be pronounced against the poor in- 
nocent prisoner. It was expected, that 


152 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


the punishment would consist in confine- 
ment in chains for many years in the 
House of Correction. This terrible news 
came like a stroke of thunder, to the fa- 
mily, shattering and destroying every- 
thing. The mother wrung her hands and 
wept bitterly ; Anna and the little Albert 
wept and cried for mercy, and William, 
the poor wan boy, felt his heart almost 
broken at the terrible news. 

“ Oh, my God !” he muttered, with 
prayerful voice, raising his closed eyes 
heavenwards, “hast Thou then wholly 
deserted us ?” 

The mother hearing these words wept 
still more bitterly. Now, when misfor- 
tune, anguish and misery seemed un- 
avoidable, — now her heretofore stout 
heart quailed, and she dare no longer say 
aloud — “Be of good cheer, children, the 
good Lord still reigns.” But she thought 
it still, she thought it with her weak 
hope. “If He will, He can bring us 
help, even when human eye can nowhere 
see a star of hope. But will He, then, 
the great almighty God?” 


WICKEDNESS BROUGHT TO LIGHT. I53 

This doubt, and surely the merciful 
Father in heaven pardoned it in her 
poor, trembling spirit, plunged the moth- 
er into fresh grief, and so heart-breaking 
was this outburst of her sorrows that 
William, who knew of no counsel, of 
no assistance, hastened away to obtain, 
if possible, fresh composure and some 
steadiness of spirit, out in the open coun- 
try. With downcast eyes and bowed 
head, cap pressed down over his wan, 
distressed countenance, he hurried through 
the streets to the nearest woods, where 
he wandered about for hours in the wil- 
derness. Twilight came on, the sun 
sank with golden hues behind the moun- 
tains, but he noticed it not in the bit- 
terness of his anguish. When night set 
in he first observed, that the darkness 
was so great in the woods, that he could 
not see five steps ahead, and then, re- 
covering from his abstraction, he recol- 
lected his mother, who was doubtless ex- 
tremely anxious at his protracted ab- 
sence. Seeking the way to the city, he 


154 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


could find no paths, nor could he tell 
by the stars which direction to take, be- 
cause the sky after sunset had been 
covered with heavy clouds. While 
standing helpless, he heard distant thun- 
der and the sharp flash of lightning broke 
through the darkness for a minute. Soon 
it began to rain ; the large drops splashed 
and clattered among the leaves and in a 
few minutes wet William to the skin. 

The boy cared nothing for that; the 
heavier the storm became, the more wel- 
come it was to him, inasmuch as the sul- 
phur-yellow lightning at least furnished 
sufficient light so that he could find the 
right road. Finding the points of the 
compass from the moss on the trunks of 
the trees, he hastened obliquely across 
the woods in the direction the city lay. 
Soon he found a beaten path, followed it, 
and after half an hour’s walk, saw a light 
glimmering in the distance. He then 
redoubled his speed. The storm at the 
same time broke out so fearfully, that he 
was glad when he reached the small 


WICKEDNESS BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 1 55 

house, through whose windows the glim- 
mer of light had been seen ; recognizing 
it by a flash of lightning as a beer-house, 
which stood alone in the woods, about a 
quarter of an hour’s walk from the city. 
“You will stay here until the heaviest 
shower is over,” he said to himself, and 
entered the drinking-room, where he 
quietly squatted behind the stove. No 
one had noticed his entrance ; for the two 
guests who occupied the room alone, 
w^ere engaged in a loud and angry dis- 
cussion. William paid no attention to 
their words at first ; but suddenly he 
started, — his father’s name was men- 
tioned. 

“You may say what you will, Heinz,” 
said one of the men sitting at the table 
to his companion, “but Miller, the old 
copyist, is innocent. I ought to know. 
Then you hold your tongue !” 

“But still, he is the rascal, Daniel,” 
replied the other. “The gentleman at 
the green law-table ought to know better 
than such a ragamuffin as you.” 


I56 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

The first man gave a rough answer; 
the second became angry, and soon, in ad- 
dition to being drunk with the wine they 
had been drinking, they quarreled in so 
rough a style, that William would have 
certainly left his hiding-place, if a deep, 
lively interest in the innocence of his fa- 
ther had not detained him. 

“ You stupid ass!” shrieked Daniel at 
last, when the quarrel had almost come 
to blows, “so that you can see that I 
know more of the affair than all the wise 
gentlemen around the green table, I will 
tell you the whole story. But first 
swear, that you will not betray me. 
However, I am already sure of you ; if 
you expose me, you know I will not 
spare you, and you would have to snarl 
in the dog-hole along with me. Now see 
here, this is the way the thing was man- 
aged.” 

With breathless attention, William list- 
ened to the tale of the sharper. He w r as 
hardly able to refrain from crying aloud 
with astonishment and delight. Daniel 


WICKEDNESS BROUGHT TO LIGHT. I57 

said, that the Privy-Counsellor Werthlos 
had bribed him to break into the office 
of Hartmann, the Notary, in order to 
secure a certain document for him. 

There’s a cunning fellow,” said he. 
“He promised me that I should have all 
the money that we found, while he would 
be satisfied with the papers, which could 
be of no use to me. And if the thing 
was found out, or we should be caught in 
the act, he would help me out of it. But 
I can depend on myself, if he won’t stand 
by me, because he was just as much in it 
as I was. The window was broken open, 
the chest emptied, and the papers taken 
out of the cupboard. My picklocks, 
which never failed, helped # me grandly. 
The Privy-Counsellor took what he want- 
ed and gave me the money for my share. 
But now listen, what a cunning fox the 
Privy-Counsellor is. In order that he 
and I should not be suspected, he gave 
me some of the papers, so that I should 
break into the house of old Miller, the 
copyist, and place them behind the pic- 
14 


I58 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


ture, where the old man had found fif- 
teen hundred dollars a short time before. 
This whole business was a trifling matter 
for me, but it brought me some two hun- 
dred dollars, which the Privy-Counsellor 
counted down to the cent. Now, see 
here, you ass, you blockhead, that's the 
true story ! and, if I wanted, I could 
cook a pretty kettle of fish for the Privy- 
Counsellor. But I will take care of my- 
self. I have him fast; it will be hard 
work for him to get loose. He will have 
to pay many a hard dollar, before he has 
shaken me off.” 

What was further said William did 
not hear. With a heart throbbing with, 
joy, he crept unnoticed out of the room 
and plunged in the rain, the night and 
the storm. The stormy weather no long- 
er troubled him. He laughed, wept, 
shouted and cried out in the woods a 
hundred times, in the exuberance of his 
joy, his thankfulness ; “ The good Lord 
still reigns ! He will bring wickedness 


WICKEDNESS BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 1 59 

to light ! Oh God ! how Thou hast 
blessed me, father, mother, all of us !” 

He continued crying, shouting and 
thanking God in his heart even to the 
gate of the city. Here he considered 
what he should do. He felt impelled to 
hurry to his mother to tell her the joyful 
news, but he dare not spare the time. 
He must first take steps, that the rascal, 
whose declaration would establish his 
father’s innocence clearly, should be ar- 
rested. “No,” he said to himself, “first 
to the Director of Police and then to 
her.” Like an arrow he flew through the 
streets to the house of the powerful offi- 
cial in question. On his knees he begged 
the servant to show him to his master, 
and the servant who knew the boy well 
and was himself a good man, could not 
resist the request. He took him to the 
Director, and when the latter asked him, 
in astonishment, what the late call 
meant, William with quick words related 
the confession of the rascal. 

“ Two Lieutenants of Police and twen- 


l60 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

ty men! At once! Forward!’' command- 
ed the Director and then, turning to 
William, who, being thoroughly unnerved 
by the result, was weeping, “ Calm your- 
self, calm yourself, my child,” said the 
kind gentleman. “You have acted cau- 
tiously and bravely, and I doubt no long- 
er in the least of your father’s innocence. 
Go home, tell your mother, what you 
have heard and seen; tell her also that 
I — the Director of Police — will take care 
that justice is done her husband. Go, 
my dear boy, and may Heaven protect 
you !” 

William thanked the kind-hearted gen- 
tleman with an overflowing soul, for his 
goodness and his quick active sympathy, 
and then hastened home. At the Police- 
Director’s door, he met the commanding 
officers with their men, all fully armed; 
and William saluted this time with a 
joyous face, the very men who, some 
weeks before, had thrust his father into 
prison. Then he ran quick as lightning 
through the streets; for his heart, over- 


WICKEDNESS BROUGHT TO LIGHT. 1 6 1 


flowing with love and joy, seemed to lend 
him wings. Overheated, breathless, but 
with radiant eyes, he burst into the room, 
and threw himself into the arms of his 
mother, who gently reproved him for his 
long absence. But he cried; “ Mother, 
don’t scold me; for the good Lord Him- 
self has guided my steps; Rejoice, mother, 
and you also, Anna and Albert — the good 
Lord still reigns. Our father is innocent, 
and God has brought his innocence to 
light!” 

And while all stood around him in rap- 
tures, he narrated what had occurred to 
him; and the mother and children thought 
they heard the voice of an angel announ- 
cing such glad tidings to them. Their 
indescribable happiness brought tears to 
their eyes. The mother fell upon her 
knees, and with shining eyes looking 
upwards to Heaven, folded her hands 
together, her heart exulting and rejoicing 
as she prayed : “ 0 Lord, our God, thou 

, art a great and jealous God ! Thou bring- 
est the wickedness to light, which has 

14 * 


162 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


been done in secret, and savest the inno- 
cent from destruction; Lord God, our 
Father, Thee we laud and praise, with 
heart and mouth and hands !” 

And the children prayed with her, and 
then fell into her arms, and there was no 
bounds to their joy that evening. The 
happiness which they felt in the depths 
of their hearts and souls was beyond de- 
scription. 



CHAPTER X. 


THE SECRETARY OF THE PRIVY COUNCIL. 

LIAM’S account bore the stamp 
truth so clearly, and the proba- 
bility that the Privy Counsellor Werthlos 
had a hand in the business on account 
of the document in question, was so 
strong with the Director of Police, that, 
without any delay, he determined on a 
course of procedure, which would neces- 
sarily lead to the fullest explanation of 
the whole affair. He sent one detach- 
ment of his soldiers to the solitary Beer- 
house in the woods, with orders to sur- 
round the house and seize both of the 
villains, who, it was likely, were still sit- 
ting there. He enjoined prompt and effi- 
cient execution of his order, and hurried 
the command on a forced march, through 

163 



164 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


the night and the rain, to the place which 
had been exactly described. The other 
Officer received an order to seize, with 
all possible quietness, the Privy Counsel- 
lor Werthlos and to take possession of his 
papers. Both orders were executed in 
the most precise manner, and early the 
next morning the rumor of the discovery 
of the real burglar ran through the whole 
city like a train of gunpowder. At ten 
o’clock William was called to the trial. 
He made his appearance in haste, and 
greeted his father with joy, who stood be- 
fore the judge, pale and sad, but still 
with great self-possession. 

“Be of good cheer, father, the good 
Lord still reigns!” whispered William in 
the worthy man’s ear, while his eyes 
flashed with delight. 

After a few minutes’ delay, the other 
prisoners were brought into the Court- 
room, and Father Miller’s eyes were 
widely dilated, when he saw the Privy- 
Counsellor opposite him. The trial be- 
gan — the Privy-Counsellor could deny 


THE SECRETARY OF THE PRIVY COUNCIL. 165 

nothing — Daniel, his accomplice, ac- 
knowledged the whole crime, and, in addi- 
tion to this evidence, the .papers seized at 
his house, contained not only the docu- 
ment that had been abstracted, but many 
others, that could not have been obtained 
honorably by the distinguished gentle- 
man. Father Miller, of course, was at 
once released, and his dismissal was ac- 
companied by a concise refutation of the 
charges against him. Trembling with 
joy he hurried, along with William, to 
his wife and children, and the meeting 
after so long and painful a separation was 
truly affecting. 

“Yes, the good Lord still reigns!” said 
Father Miller, when the first enrapturing 
paroxysm of joy was over, and the whole 
family was sitting around the table. 
“ This belief, mother, was my consolation 
in suffering; it held me up in all my sor- 
row, — and although I had fear, yet I did 
not despair. The great Lord God was 
with me, and the consciousness of my 
innocence supported my strength. Let 


1 66 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

us be thankful unto the Lord, my chil- 
dren, for now I hope with confidence, that 
all anguish, all misery and all sadness 
are over, and no man hereafter will cast 
a doubt on the honor of old Miller. ” 

As regards the latter statement, Father 
Miller was right ; but the story is not yet 
ended. If he had tasted the bitter things 
of the trial, he was now to enjoy the 
sweets of the same. 

A crowd of old friends, none of whom 
had suffered themselves indeed to be seen 
during his troubles, called already at noon 
and expressed their sympathy, to Father 
Miller and family, in loving words. To- 
wards four o'clock there ^vas a knock at 
the door, and there entered — to the great 
surprise and astonishment of the whole 
family — Herr Hartmann. 

“ Father Miller,” he said, and ap- 
proached with a slightly confused coun- 
tenance, “can you forgive me ? I have 
been a great sinner towards you, and you 
were right in speaking, as you did, to me 
at our separation, ‘that my penitence 


THE SECRETARY OF THE PRIVY COUNCIL. 167 

and request for pardon would compensate 
you for the bitter hours which my blind 
prejudice occasioned you/ Father Mil- 
ler, here I stand, a penitent and humbled 
man ; here I stand and extend my hand 
to you, asking forgiveness. Forgive me, 
I was cunningly deceived and — .” 

“Not another word, Herr Hartmann, 
not another word !” said Father Miller, 
interrupting the remarks of his former 
employer and shaking the hand warmly 
that had been extended him. “I forgive 
you every wrong you have ever done me ; 
for I well know that you indicted the 
blow on your old Miller, with a reluctant 
heart. But listen now to me and believe 
what I tell you about the history of those 
letters. You see — ” 

“I know it already, I know it all, gal- 
lant, brave, honest man,” said Herr Hart- 
mann interrupting him. “I have looked 
over the papers of the worthless calum- 
niator, have found your last letter to him, 
and that not only establishes your inno- 
cence, but also your inflexible integrity. 


1 68 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

On that account I have come here to tell 
it to you, and to beg forgiveness of you, 
even on my knees if it were necessary, 
until I had appeased your heart justly 
enraged against me. I know everything, 
everything that was done and transacted 
between you. Can you now forgive the 
penitent sinner ?” 

With tearful eyes Herr Hartmann gazed 
upon Father Miller, from whose eyes tears 
also flowed; and he threw himself into the 
open arms and on the throbbing heart of 
his brave employer, who had only been 
deceived by shameful lies. 

“Oh God,” he exclaimed, with deep 
feeling, “how happy Thou hast made me. 
Thou hast removed even this shadow that 
stained my honesty. Yes, indeed, mother, 
your trustful and encouraging proverb has 
been very clearly manifested in us. In 
every little circumstance, I see clearly the 
hand of God and, with thankful heart, I 
look up to Him and cry with joy : ‘The 
good Lord still reigns. He is with us 
when all others forsake us.’ Herr Hart- 


THE SECRETARY OF THE PRIVY COUNCIL. 1 69 


maim, you cannot think how your com- 
munication has rejoiced me. Had my last 
letter to the Privy Counsellor not been 
found, a suspicion would still have rested 
upon me. But now all is well ; for every 
one must know that old Miller, the copy- 
ist, never knowingly or voluntarily de- 
viated from the path of honesty.” 

“ No one would have suspected it,” said 
Herr Hartmann, pressing the copyist’s 
hands, “ if you had not been so imprudent, 
my dear friend, as seemingly to consent 
to the temptations of the Privy-Coun- 
sellor.” 

“Yes, I did commit a fault indeed,” 
said Father Miller. “A man should avoid 
even the appearance of evil, and I had 
forgotten that. Now I have suffered for 
it, as was right, and I do not think that a 
like error will be committed.” 

Many things were said about the won- 
derful connection between all portions of 
the eventful history, and Herr Hartmann 
finally made a proposition that Father Mil- 
ler should return to his service at increased 


I70 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

salary. Father Miller, as was natural, 
was pleased with the idea, and the mother 
seemed quite happy also. Here indeed 
was already a sweet fruit of her bitter suf- 
ferings, that she could, with a larger in- 
come, spare many a little sum for her son 
William. 

“And the Countess Kronberg’s docu- 
ment/' asked Father Miller, as Herr 
Hartmann was about leaving. 

“ Was happily found, dear Miller, ” re- 
plied the Notary. “It is already in your 
old desk, which stands in its old place, 
waiting its former master. Don’t leave 
the place long empty, Father Miller. Not- 
withstanding I was so strongly convinced 
of your guilt — still I always felt the want 
of you.” 

Father Miller was heartily delighted at 
this expression from his employer, and he 
promised him to be at his post very early 
in the morning as usual. Then Herr 
Hartmann left, and the happy family were 
beginning to chat about the visit, when 
there was another rap at the door. Wil- 


THE SECRETARY OF THE PRIVY COUNCIL. I 7 I 

liam quickly opened it, and a beautiful 
young lady entered, whom the father re- 
cognized immediately as the Countess 
Kronberg. 

“Herr Miller,” she said, in a friendly 
tone, “ I cannot refrain from giving an 
expression of my hearty thanks for the 
honest fidelity, which you have shown in 
my business affairs. Another in your 
place would have yielded probably to the 
temptation that was spread so attractively 
before him, and I, an unprotected orphan, 
would have been compelled to go through 
life in poverty and misery.” 

Father Miller evaded the thanks, which 
she expressed, by saying that he had done 
nothing more than his duty ; still it did 
his heart good that his inflexible honesty 
had been acknowledged. The Countess 
chatted an hour with the family, and, on 
leaving, gave them each a present. To 
the mother and father a ring with a pre- 
cious stone, having the inscription en- 
graved inside 6 with heartfelt thanks; to 
William a handsome gold watch ; to Anna 


1 72 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 

an exquisite bracelet; and to the little 
Albert some elegant toys. Father Miller 
did not wish to receive these valuable ar- 
ticles, and only yielded to her wish, when 
she said very earnestly that it would 
grieve her if he did not suffer her to act 
in accordance with the promptings of her 
heart. After the Countess had promised 
to remain in the future the firmest friend 
of the family, she departed, leaving be- 
hind her in the little house hearts truly 
joyous and thankful. 

“Now indeed,” said the father, “the 
good Lord recompenses us abundantly 
from the fullness of His mercy for the 
short period of suffering which He im- 
posed on us as a trial. How can we be 
thankful enough to Him !” 

The mother and the children, no less 
than Father Miller, felt what great things 
the Lord had done for them. But there 
was still another surprise in store for 
them. 

Twilight had already set in, when 
richly-dressed servant, clad in the colors 


THE SECRETARY OF THE PRIVY COUNCIL. I 73 


of the royal house, approached the house 
of Father Miller and modestly inquired 
for the brave copyist. 

“ What is your wish ?” said the latter, 
looking astonished at the visitor. 

“His Majesty, our most gracious King, 
has commanded me to hand you this let- 
ter to-day,” replied the servant, drawing 
out of the breast-pocket of his livery, 
shining with its silver and gold, a large 
official letter with the seal of State, and 
placing it in the hands of the greatly- 
astonished copyist. “You will bring the 
answer yourself to His Majesty,” he add- 
ed. “In the meanwhile I hope the let- 
ter may communicate something very 
agreeable to you !” 

With these words the servant bowed, 
declined escort to the door, and left. 

“Mother, bring the light quickly, I 
beg you !” said Father Miller, as the 
front door closed behind the servant. “I 
can assure you that I am very curious to 
know what His Majesty has commanded 
or communicated to me.” 


15 * 


*74 


STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


The mother was not less curious than 
the father, and brought the light quickly. 
The children crowded around the father, 
who broke the royal seal and loosened the 
envelope of the letter. A folded sheet of 
paper fell out, and a delicately written 
scrap of paper, with the heading — “My 
dear Miller.” When the father perceived 
this, he cast a hurried glance over the 
lines, then folded his hands, looked up- 
wards with tearful eyes, and said, with 
subdued voice : “ Oh great and pre- 

cious Almighty Lord, Thou true Father 
in heaven, this is indeed too much of 
Thy grace and mercy. Whence have I, 
a poor sinner, deserved so much ? chil- 
dren, mother, listen,” turning around 
with overflowing delight to his family, 
“hear what the King has written to me, 
his most humble - subject, with his own 
hand. Only listen — ” 

Father Miller had no need to ask them 
twice ; for indeed all had never been so 
attentive and anxiously expectant in 


THE SECRETARY OF THE PRIVY COUNCIL. I 75 

their whole lives as in those few minutes. 
And the father read the following* letter : 


My Dear Miller : 

We have learned what a faithful and 
skillful servant you have been to your 
employer. It has also been told us, that 
our Superior Court, although indeed de- 
ceived by false appearances, has acted 
against you with great rigor. We wish 
to compensate you for this. A faithful, 
skillful and God-fearing workman is al- 
ways welcome to us, and on this account, 
we herewith appoint you Secretary of 
our Privy-Council, with the annual salary 
of fifteen hundred dollars. We enclose 
the Patent for the same, made out by our 
Minister for the Interior, and remain 
your well-affected King, 

William. 

How can I describe the exultation, the 
delight, the rush of joy, which now broke 
forth from the hearts of these highly- 
blessed people, in an incessant stream. 


I76 STORY OF FATHER MILLER. 


Dear reader, thou shoulclest have seen 
this joy thyself in order to have had an 
idea of it. I can only tell thee this much, 
that, on that evening, there was scarcely 
a person in the world as happy as Father 
Miller and his family. Dost thou per- 
haps envy them their happiness ? Cast 
aside all envy ; for thou must thyself ac- 
knowledge that this happiness was not 
undeserved. But if thou wilt impress 
indelibly on thy heart the mother’s pro- 
verb : “ The good Lord still reigns,” I 

shall have no objection, but will rather 
hope that it may be of advantage to 
thee, as it was to our friends, who found 
consolation and comfort, even in their 
bitterest anguish, in a glance at Him, 
whose eye ever has a fatherly watch over 
every one, whose heart is pure and who 
keeps himself undefiled by sin and wick- 
edness, through Jesus Christ. 













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